


Four Happy Days

by o0Anapher0o



Series: And now and then a white elephant [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Case Fic, Established Relationship, F/M, I might have gotten a little carried away there, Many of them, Post-Season/Series 03, Prudence's party planing, Shakespeare References, fairydust, overhearing things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-05-31 03:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 49,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19417729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0Anapher0o/pseuds/o0Anapher0o
Summary: In hindsight it had probably been naïve to think there wouldn't be a murder when Prudence Stanley organised an engagement party for her niece.Sequel to When I grow rich, because apparently I'm doing a series now. How did that happen?I suppose it can stand alone, if you accept Phrack in an established relationship and sort of semi-fake engaged.





	1. An old device

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to this little verse. All of four people asked for this sequel (although who knows if they meant this story in particular) and here it is. Let it never be said I'm not obliging ;-)  
> This is set a couple of months after When I grow rich. While I will obviously never tell anyone not to read my other stuff, I think the first chapter should recap the situation sufficiently for this to be able to stand alone. If not, well.  
> The usual disclaimers: All characters, events and quotes appearing in Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries belong to Every Cloud Production (I think). All other works referred to will be cited at the end of the respective chapters.  
> The title of this fic, as well as all chapter titles are taken from A Midsummer Night's Dream, cited from the 1994 Oxford edition, edited by Peter Holland (academic integrity and recent experiences with Hamlet demand I cite an edition when dealing with the Bard. Editing a 400 year old text can be a tricky thing. So credit where credit is due). The title is from Act 1, scene1 line 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short little chapter to start. 
> 
> chapter title: MSND 5.1.50

Phryne groaned and turned off the wireless. She didn’t have time for this. The engagement party, was in less than a week and she still had a million things to do. Despite the fact that Aunt Prudence had commandeered the event, somehow Phryne still felt like she hadn’t had a moment’s respite ever since the engagement had been announced. Her engagement. To Jack. The thought should have made her shudder, but to her own surprise it didn’t. She told herself that it was because they both knew it wasn’t a real engagement. It was an arrangement that allowed them to live together without compromising his reputation as a public servant. There would never be a marriage resulting from this. All this was, was telling the world that they were together and that was it. No obligations, no commitment, no shackles other than what they had already agreed to between themselves. It really was only a party, so there really wasn’t anything to feel strange about. Even if it meant there were sneaky photographs of them in the papers constantly these days and Jack grew slightly more fidgety with every day the celebration came closer, to say nothing of the fact that Aunt Prudence had generously offered to host the event and had been all but deaf to any objections. All which was perfectly normal under any circumstances. There wasn’t a thing to feel strange about. Therefore, there was no need to worry about it not feeling strange. That she told herself. She really was getting ridiculous, getting anxious about not feeling anxious. She rolled her eyes at herself. Get it together woman, she ordered herself, you have things to do.  
She took a look at her watch and sighed. Jane’s ship was delayed for another hour, as Clarence Ball had just informed her, thanks to the miserable winter weather that had settled for a cold drizzle and almost impenetrable fog today. A few hours should not make such a difference after a journey that took nearly two months and after the six months Phryne hadn’t seen her daughter. But she had missed Jane immensely since they had spend Christmas together in London and she had grown steadily more excited to see her again ever since it had been decided that Jane would come home. For the party of course, although that had only been the occasion. Jane had finished her year abroad and was returning to Melbourne for her last year of school. If not for the party she might have been globe trotting a little longer, but when the news of the engagement reached her, she had immediately headed home almost directly. And now her ship was late.  
Phryne fought the urge to jump in the Hispano and drive to the docks anyway, just in case the girl was surprisingly early again. Who listened to Clary Ball anyways? A knock on the door took her mind of it for a moment.  
"Mrs Stanley on the telephone for you, Miss." Mr Butler informed her.  
Phryne sighed again for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour alone. Jack really had it easy, she mused grumpily. He could hide behind his desk and use work as an excuse, while she had to deal with all of this nonsense of ships and planing and Aunt Prudence.

"Aunt P, if this is about more flower arrangements..." she began warningly, as soon as she picked up the receiver.  
The tone in her aunt’s voice silenced her quickly.  
"Phryne dear, you must come at once. Something dreadful has happened."  
The last three times she had heard that sentence from her aunt someone had been dead, so all of Phryne’s senses were immediately on high alert.  
"Of course Aunt P, what happened?" she inquired gently.  
She listened to her aunt’s explanation carefully.  
"Has Jack been called?"  
There really was no point in asking if someone had called the police in general at this point. No one on the Stanley Estate would have called for anyone other than for Inspector Robinson any more.  
"No, don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it. I’ll be there as quickly as I can. Let Bert get you some tea." with that she hung up, only to immediately dial again.

His voice greeted her like an old friend, even if the greeting was formal and impersonal:  
"City South Police, Inspector Robinson speaking."  
A grin stole onto her face she was sure he could hear over the line.  
"Hello Jack."  
"Miss Fisher," he sounded only mildly surprised, "using the telephone today? Have I done something to offend you?"  
His tone was teasing, but she didn’t miss the gentle concern underlying it. It made her inappropriately happy to hear.  
"Never, Jack.” she promised, “I’m afraid there’s no time to stop by right now. It seems Aunt Prudence has found a body. Again. Murdered apparently." she informed him.  
"Must run in the family." he commented dryly, "Are you sure she didn’t just try to get you over there to help with the preparations?"  
She almost chuckled.  
"She didn’t sound like it. Poor old thing, people really do have a tendency to get murdered on her property."  
"Maybe we should have considered the history of engagement parties in your aunt’s house." he noted. "You have told her not to disturb anything?"  
"I think she knows by know, don’t you, Jack? I’ll see you there?"  
"Of course. And while I have no doubt it will take you about half the time as it'll take me to get there, please drive carefully."  
She grinned.  
"I’m looking forward to seeing you, too, darling."

Jack hung up the phone and rubbed his temples lightly. As if this whole extravaganza of an engagement party wasn’t bad enough.  
"Collins!" he called his Senior Constable, "Call the coroner and the photographer, we have a dead body at the Stanley Estate."  
Hugh frowned deeply. "Again? Is Mrs Stanley alright?"  
Jack suppressed a smile at Hugh’s good heart.  
"According to Miss Fisher she is a little shaken but otherwise fine." he told him.  
Phryne hadn’t exactly said that, but he knew both her and her aunt well enough by now to know that she’d reacted differently if her aunt had taken the incident badly. Besides, Mrs Stanley was a strong woman and it wasn’t her first dead body after all. Hugh nodded, before his face screwed up again.  
"Oh, Sir, I hope this won’t interfere with the celebration on the weekend."  
Jack shrugged.  
"We’ll see Collins. But knowing Miss Fisher and Mrs Stanley they won’t let something as insignificant as a murder get in the way of their plans."  
He almost sighed at the thought. As much as he loved the idea of being, even if only as a formality, engaged to Phryne, he could have done without the party. Not that he didn’t enjoy a party now and then, but he enjoyed them more from the sidelines and something told him that wasn’t going to be an option at his own engagement party. He had reluctantly agreed to the idea, in the light that they were really only doing it to publicly frame their relationship in a socially accepted form. He was fully aware that, in order to do anything publicly, there was a certain need for a public to be present. And since Phryne didn’t give two hoots about her own reputation, but his being impeccable had turned out to be quite literally an implicit requirement for his career, he was also aware the whole thing was mostly for his benefit, rather than hers, which was an almost painfully ironic twist. He had never been particularly fond of the idea none the less. Things had gotten even worse than he had feared, when Mrs Stanley had insisted on hosting the event and had presented them with a guest list that had stunned even Phryne into silence. At least until she had vehemently started to protest against about half the people on the list. The guest list had eventually become a carefully negotiated document, rivalling the acts of the Vienna congress, at least in terms of the time it had taken to agree on it. It was going to be an interesting mix of people to say the least. The rest of the arrangements Jack had opted to stay out of to safe his own sanity. He had easily consented to accept whatever the two women would concoct, as long as he had nothing to do with the preparation and under the explicit condition there be no costumes of any kind involved. A notion that, for what felt like the first time in a none-professional capacity, had gained him with Mrs Stanley’s full approval.  
He almost dreaded having to go there now and face the woman to solve yet another death in or around her house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And welcome back also to my little historic notes. My main source is still Wikipedia, so I won't be responsible if anyone looses in a pub quiz because of information gained here. I didn't have to *cough* amend *cough* any historic facts this time around though, so there is that at least . 
> 
> The Congress of Vienna was a meeting of the ambassadors of over 150 European states between 1814-15 to reorganise Europe after the Napoleonic wars. Negotiations were slow, to say the least; the congress lasted about 8 ½ months. In the end an act of 121 articles was signed, some of which are still adhered to today (like the article to ostracise slavery) and it did prevent wars between the major powers of Europe until the 1850s.


	2. Over park, over pale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title: MSND 2.1.4

There was no way anyone could not notice the woman clad in a black and emerald green fur coat and waving frantically, first thing they looked at the pier, even through the mist and spray. Jane saw her, too, and a wide smile lit up her face. She refrained from waving back though, being all too aware of the prying eyes of her fellow passengers and feeling no need to give them yet another reason to turn up their noses at her. Travelling first class on a big boat was always a bit of a trial for her, even now after she had spend almost two years in fancy schools. Sooner or later someone figured out something about her past, or she made a blunder in a thoughtless moment and she wasn’t particularly good at dealing with the snickering. Normally she wouldn't care much, but it was different when you were trapped on a ship with those people where avoiding them wasn't ever really an option if she wanted to leave her cabin every now and then. And who knew which of these toffs Aunt Prudence knew and would expect her to meet again. So punching someone was probably a bad idea in the long run. At least this time she was expected and Miss Phryne picked her up. No more surprises like that Christmas in July thing last year. Although the time of the year was almost the same, only about a month earlier. It seemed strange that she hadn’t been home in almost a year. It hadn’t felt that long. Too much had happened.  
As soon as she had set foot on the pier though, Jane, too, started waving and seconds later she found herself in her guardian‘s tight embrace.  
"Oh, Jane, I missed you." Phryne declared enthusiastically.  
"And I you." Jane grinned back before she looked around.  
"Where is everyone?" she asked, noticing for the first time that Phryne seemed to be completely alone.  
"Well, Dot’s waiting in the car. She has trouble standing for any longer period of time these days. But other than that she’s fine." Phryne explained. "And you’ll see the other’s soon enough. They’re all at Aunt Prudence’s. Which is exactly where we’re going, as soon as we have your luggage stored in the car. There’s been a murder."  
Jane rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help her grin widen a fraction.  
"Home, sweet home." she murmured wryly and took Phryne’s arm as they strode to the Hispano waiting at the corner, together.

The reunion between Jane and Dot was short, but sweet. Jane's eyes widened when she saw the evidence of her friends state. She had of course known that Dot was expecting, and was fairly far along at that, but to see it in the flesh, and there was quite a lot more of it than she was used to, was a different thing entirely. Dot laughed at the stunned look on her face.  
„You can give me a hug, Jane,“ she suggested. ,I won't burst.“  
The younger woman gave her a doubtful look, as if to say 'are you sure'.  
„I'm not due for another month, don't worry.“ Dot assured her and gave Jane a fierce hug.  
Despite her words it was a bit more of a side hug as she manoeuvred her belly out of the way.  
Jane still eyed her with a mixture of scepticism and curiosity.  
„What does it feel like?“ she asked.  
Dot laughed. „A bit cumbersome by now.“ she admitted.  
„It's hard to put in words,“ she said honestly, „but I don't think I've ever been so happy. And now that you're back, even more.“  
She smiled widely. Jane gave her friend another hug, being stunned rather speechless.  
In the meantime Phryne had commandeered some hapless soul to bring Jane's luggage and store it in the car. As soon as everything was tucked away and secured she jumped behind the wheel.  
„Take your seats, Ladies,“ she commanded, „we don't want to worry Hugh any more than necessary about where you are Dot and we don't want to miss anything.“

"Cec!" Jane unceremoniously flung her arms around the waiting cabby as soon as her feet touched the gravel in the driveway to the Stanley Mansion.  
"Hello Miss Jane, it’s good to see ya." Cec returned the hug with equal enthusiasm.  
"Too bad there’s been another murder." he added.  
Jane shrugged.  
"Whenever isn’t there?" she pointed out "How is Alice?"  
"Right as rain, thank you. She found a new job of sorts and she really enjoys it." Cec smiled widely.  
"The Inspector is waitin' for you Miss." he informed Phryne.  
She nodded.  
"How’s my aunt holding up?"  
"A bit the worse for wear.“ Cec made a sympathetic face. „Bert’s with ’er. But she’ll be happy to see you, Jane." he said.  
Jane exchanged a look with her guardian.  
"I go to her?" she asked.  
Phryne nodded.  
"That would be lovely of you. Dot, would you go with her, please."  
By now Dot had climbed out of the car. She generally refused help despite the advanced state of her pregnancy, which was why Cec hadn’t even dared offer. The one time he had tried he had nearly gotten his head bit of, so now he thought better of it. Of course that way everything took a bit longer for Dot these days.  
"Of course, Miss." she confirmed.  
Jane still hesitated.  
"Is it strange?" she asked tentatively. "With Arthur gone? I was so sorry I couldn’t come to the funeral. She’s not mad at me, is she?"  
"Of course not, you silly thing." Dot said kindly, "She wouldn’t have wanted you to drop out of school for months for that. And you couldn’t have made in on time anyways. Cec is right, she’ll be happy to see you."  
Still talking the two young women made to enter the house. They were intercepted by an agitated Hugh Collins at the door, who seemed more than a little relieved to see them.  
„Thank God you're alright, Dottie.“ he exclaimed.  
„Of course I'm alright Hugh Collins.“ Dot chastised her husband. „What is supposed to have happened to me? We only picked up Jane from the harbour.“  
Phryne didn't hear how the conversation progressed as the three of them finally disappeared in the house. She smiled. Dot was fiercely determined to remain independent these days, even as a wife and mother-to-be, a development Phryne took full credit for, but she knew her companion secretly loved that Hugh was so caring about her. And really, she wasn't half as incapacitated as some of the men around her seemed to think. She would take good care of Jane and Aunt Prudence this afternoon. Phryne let out a breath of relieve. That was one thing taken care of. She turned to Cec, who grinned at the scene of domestic bliss they had just witnessed.  
"So. Where did you say the Inspector was?"

"Miss Fisher," Jack greeted her in the hallway, "I was starting to wonder if there’d be need for a search party. What took you so long? Not abiding to the traffic rules, I suspect." he quipped.  
She gave him a withering look.  
"Of course not, Jack, you know me better than that. I had to pick Jane up from the docks."  
His teasing smile fell instantly.  
"Of course, I’m sorry, I thought... I thought she had arrived already."  
It took a moment before the truth dawned on him.  
"You brought her here, didn’t you?"  
Miss Fisher shrugged innocently.  
"He boat was delayed due to the weather. She was eager to meet everybody and everybody is here. And I did promise Aunt P I’d come here as quickly as I could. Besides, I thought Aunt Prudence could do with the distraction."  
The last sentence was said uncharacteristically genuine. Uncharacteristically for anyone who didn’t know her well. Jack did and so he nodded, not surprised that her aunts well-being had been on her mind, even as she had to juggle clashing duties.  
"Of course. You’re right. I’m sure everybody is happy to see her again."  
"I hope you’re happy to see her again, too, Jack." she said, gently putting her hand on his arm.  
Their eyes met and after a moment Jack’s mouth straightened out into a smile.  
"Of course." he said. „I hope you have send Mrs Collins to see her husband, otherwise we might soon have to deal with another dead body.“ he tried to regain his composure a little and return to the previous tone of the conversation. Phryne just smiled.  
"So I guess you’ve already seen the victim then." she inquired, turning to the more pressing matter at hand.  
"I have indeed." he confirmed. "If you would like to follow me, Miss Fisher. I have a feeling you’ll want to see this."  
She raised an eyebrow, suppressing the comment that she always wanted to see the victim. But he opened the door to the room that was known by all the family as the billiard room, despite the fact that there hadn’t been a billiard table in it for almost a decade, and the words died on her lips when her eyes took in the sight of their victim.  
He hadn’t been wrong, she would have definitely loath to miss this:  
The room had been cleared of tables and chairs in preparation for the party, where it was to serve as small ball room. A small stage had been set up for musicians and speeches at the far end of the room, next to the large French windows. Elevated on this stage lay their victim spread out as if on display. He was a young man in his early twenties from what Phryne could see, well built and handsome with an even face and lovely thick brown hair. His well formed torso was bare, stretched out languidly, one hand above his head, emphasising his long, shapely limbs. He only wore his trousers and his lightly tanned skin contrasted with the white linen that covered the stage. His eyes were closed and he looked very young and innocent, laying there as if he was sleeping, if not for the rather impressive sword sticking out of his chest. A pool of blood had soaked through the sheets, glowing dark red against the snow white linen. He looked like a painting of a young martyr, Phryne thought, or...  
"This dagger hath mista’en, for lo, his house" she quoted.  
"Just my thoughts, Miss Fisher." Jack agreed, trying very hard to hide his absolutely smitten smile that always threatened to destroy his professional demeanour whenever she quoted Shakespeare.  
„Am I right to assume this is the sword you intended for my costume at your cousin’s engagement?“  
She nodded as she took in the sight properly.  
„Of course Jack, how many swords do you expect Aunt Prudence has hanging around?“  
„I wouldn‘t even dare guessing.“ he replied dryly and confessed: „I have to admit it never occurred to me you could mean a real one.“  
She gave him a pitying look.  
„I wouldn’t offer anything less to a Roman soldier.“ she declared graciously. „Apparently Uncle Edward‘s family brought it with them from England. Although my guess would be that his grandfather bought it at some auction. It never felt like a true heirloom to me.“  
Jack couldn’t hide a smile. „And I’m sure you investigated the matter thoroughly, Miss Fisher.“  
„Since I was six years old, Jack.“ she replied with a broad grin.

The one element that didn’t fit the gorgeous, if macabre, tableau in front of them was the red headed woman kneeling next to the corpse. She looked up when she heard Phryne’s heels clicking over the parquet.  
"Well, look who decided to show up." Mac stated dryly. "How nice of you join us after all."  
"I was delayed by the arrival of a very important delivery." Phryne said airily. "She’s currently comforting Aunt Prudence, if you want to say hello before you leave."  
Mac frowned  
"That was today?" she asked. "Well, good thing she’s not my ward. For her that is."  
She cleared her throat. "Right, so have you identified our young friend?" she turned to Jack who nodded.  
"Donald Wardrop, 23, commonly known as Donny. He was hired as a footman for the party."  
He shuddered involuntarily. The thought of being part of an event for which people had to be hired specially made his stomach flip. Just pretend you’re not involved in it, he told himself. Treat this like any other crime scene, like any other fancy party that you would never be invited to.  
"What have you found, Doctor?" he asked, intending to put his resolution into practice immediately.  
"Nothing past the obvious." Mac replied. "Seems he was stabbed in the heart, between ten and midnight last night. I can’t see any fingerprints on the sword, but you might want to have one of your constables take it in any case."  
Mac got to her feet. "I’ll just go and have a word to Jane. I’ll ring the station if I find something during the autopsy."  
Jack nodded thankfully and returned his attention to Phryne who was now crouching next to the body.  
"So Miss Fisher, what do you think means this masterless and gory sword to lie discoloured by this place of peace?" he asked her with a twinkle in his eyes.  
"Mostly that a greater power than even you can contradict hath thwarted your intents for this room. At least for the next couple of days."  
The two detective’s head spun around, fixing on the Doctor who was just by the door.  
"What? You two don’t have the monopoly on Shakespeare." Mac said with a devious grin on her face and slid out the room before either of them could come up with an appropriate answer.  
Phryne rolled her eyes at her friends antics, but let it slide, since Mac was already gone anyway. She finished her own examination of the body and rose to her feet again. He really had been a beautiful boy, she thought.  
"Have you found his clothes yet?" she asked.  
Jack shook his head. "Not yet. Collins has a team searching the house and the grounds."  
She nodded.  
"Witnesses?" she asked.  
"Waiting to be interviewed." he offered her his arm.  
She took it and beamed at him.  
"You know just how to treat a Lady, Inspector."

A set of servants were waiting for the two detectives in the kitchen. A young woman in a maids uniform was sniffling in a handkerchief and was being comforted by another girl next to her.  
"Miss Paterson?" Jack addressed the crying one.  
She lifted her head to look at him a little confused.  
"No, I’m Helen. Bonnard." she stuttered. "This is Minnie." she indicated the girl next to her, who had gotten up.  
"You’re Mr Wardrop’s fiancée?" Jack confirmed.  
"Minnie Paterson." she nodded.  
Jack didn’t show any sign of surprise, merely asked her to come with them to answer a few questions. She followed them to the small parlour without a peep.

Minnie Paterson was a pretty girl around twenty, with bright brown eyes and equally brown, thick hair, she wore in a fashionable bun at the top of her neck. She was small, hardly taller than Jane, and had a very nice figure, Phryne noted. Otherwise noteworthy was her complete lack of emotion. She didn’t seem bereaved or even shocked about her fiancé’s sudden and tragic death. Although Phryne deemed it likely she hadn’t seen the body, or maybe she was in shock.  
"You’re employed at Mrs Stanley’s as a parlour maid, Miss Paterson?" Jack began the questioning.  
She nodded.  
"How long have you been in Mrs Stanley’s service?"  
"About three years." she replied. "Constable Collins interviewed me about Marigold Brown and that poor lady last year. The one who was killed with that electric device." she added, blushing a little.  
Jack tried not to smile, but Phryne had no such qualms.  
"How long did your fiancé work for Mrs Stanley?" he asked.  
"He didn’t. He was only hired for the party. He used to be a footman at the Tapperd’s estate until three months ago, when Mr Tapperd... died."  
Jack nodded understandingly. The papers had been full of that case. St. John Tapperd had been yet another member of the Melbourne upper crust who hadn’t known how to deal with the financial uproars of the time. Rather than be exposed to the shame of poverty, he had chosen to face his Webley instead, leaving his family bereathed and at least fifty servants and employees out of a commission.  
"He did odd jobs ever since, work at functions, helped out, whatever he could get." Minnie continued. "My father helped him get this job when they started hiring additional staff."  
"And your father is...?"  
"Ed Paterson, head chauffeur." she replied.  
"If you excuse me saying so, Miss Paterson," Phryne smoothly inserted herself into the conversation, "you don’t seem very bereaved at your fiancé’s death. Your friend appears more distraught than you."  
Minnie turned her head slightly to fully face her.  
“Helen always had a soft spot for Donny." she said softly. "That engagement was not my idea. We’re not all lucky to get to choose who we marry, Miss Fisher."  
"Then whose idea was it?" Jack interceded.  
"My father’s of course." the maid replied. "He and Donny’s father were old friends, been to the war together and all that. When old Mr Wardrop didn’t come back, father vowed to take care of Donny. That’s why he wanted us to marry." she almost managed not to sound strangled at the last sentence.  
Both detectives noticed, but both of them could sympathise and didn't remark on it. Jack cleared his throat.  
"Do you know if anyone would want to harm Donny?" he asked.  
She shrugged. "Not that I’d know, but I didn’t knew much about who he spend his time with. You might want to ask Robin, he was always hanging around with him."  
"Robin?" Jack asked.  
"Robin Owen, he’s a gofer, works for Mrs S as well."  
Jack noted the name down.  
"One last question: Where were you last night between ten and midnight?"  
She gave him a look. "I was in bed, sleeping. We get up early."  
"Thank you Miss Paterson, that’ll be all."  
„Actually I still have a question.“ Phryne interjected before the girl left the room. „How is it his body was found so late? Did no one go in the billiard room all morning?“  
Minnie shrugged.  
„I suppose not. The room's pretty much ready.“  
Phryne nodded understandingly. „And no one missed Donny?“  
Another shrug. „I suppose we just thought he was being late again.“  
With that the girl left.

Phryne frowned deeply.  
„She doesn't seem very close to her fiancé.“ she observed. „Is that even legal?"  
Jack sighed. "Marrying her off? It shouldn’t be, but he’s her father and she’s not legally of age."  
"But old enough to marry." Phryne added sarcastically.  
He shrugged. "I don’t make the laws Miss Fisher. It may be questionable, but it’s not a crime. It is however a motive."  
"You think she would have killed him rather than marry him?"  
He crooked his head.  
"I know more than one woman who would have." he pointed out.  
She raised an eyebrow.  
"I would more likely have kill my father, if he’d tried anything like that. But even he had more decency than that. And that's saying something."  
Jack decided it was not the right time to point out that she had run away to France as soon as she had reached marriage age. But even he had to admit he didn’t think Henry Fisher would have gone that far, especially after he had inherited a fortune. Before, who knew. Jack was very sure the Baron was not a man he ever wanted to see truly desperate.  
"At least I can feel safe knowing you were the one who proposed." he teased instead.  
Phryne just harrumphed.

Fortunately the other maid entered at this point. Jack had asked Minnie to send her in, before she had left. Helen seemed to have pulled herself together again, but her eyes were still rimmed red and she was still scrounging up a handkerchief in her hands.  
"Miss Bonnard, please have a seat." Jack greeted her kindly.  
"You knew Mr Wardrop well?" he started after she had followed his instruction.  
She nodded and another sob escaped her throat.  
"Have you known him long?" Phryne asked gently and started pouring the girl a cup of tea.  
Jack leaned back a little and let her take the lead.  
"Since I started working here, two years ago." Helen managed. "He’d often come over to visit Minnie or Mr Paterson."  
"Do you know of anyone who would want to harm him?"  
Both detectives noticed her hesitating a breath too long, but her answer was non-committal.  
"I really couldn’t think of anyone."  
Another sob threatened to overtake her and she brought the hanky back to her eyes.  
"He was a nice guy. Why would anyone do that to him?"  
Phryne and Jack exchanged a look before Phryne gently placed her hand on the maids shoulder to offer her a bit of comfort.  
"Minnie said, he was friends with Robin the gofer?" she indicated.  
Helen nodded. "Thick as thieves they were. Mrs Stanley got very cross with them a few times, when she caught them 'loitering‘ she called it, when they were supposed to work."  
"I assume you knew about Donny's engagement to Minnie?" Phryne asked still very gently.  
Helen sniffed once more.  
"'Course. Everyone knew. Ed, her father, made a big show of it."  
"How did Minnie feel about it?"  
For a moment the girl hesitated "She wasn’t... She didn’t appreciate how lucky she was, I thought. To get a good man like Donny."

"Well, we should have a word with this Robin." Phryne decreed after they had ushered the still crying girl out, back to the kitchen.  
Jack agreed.  
"I would like to speak to your aunt first though." he stated. "And Mr Paterson of course."  
"Of course." Phryne grinned. "In that case, we can head to the tea room and you can say hello to Jane, while we’re there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phryne, Jack and Mac quote Romeo and Juliet Act 5 Scene 3 lines 202, 142/43 and 153/54 respectively (Oxford 2000. Ed. Jill L. Levenson), although Mac takes a few liberties with the text. 
> 
> On the topic of forced marriage: It's actually quite difficult to determine at what point it became illegal, mostly because the line between forced and arranged is terribly blurred (for example at what point does the social pressure connected with an arranged marriage become enough to constitute forced?). Women's ability to resist a marriage is usually strongly linked to women's rights in general (as soon as you're not considered your fathers or husbands property anymore you can start making your own decisions), therefore the only actual info about laws banning forced marriage (not in Australia but in general) I could find, point towards the 1970.  
> Another point I find quite interesting is the common difference between marriage age and legal age (especially for women). I don't actually know this for a fact but an educated guess would be that in 1930 marriage age would probably have been 16 and legal age 21 (if I'm wrong I'd gladly be corrected). Today marriage age in Australia is 18 for both men and women, but you can get married at 16 with judicial consent as well as the consent of both parents given „exceptional circumstances“ whatever that might be.


	3. A gossip's bowl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title: MSND 2.1.47

In truth Jack found himself a little nervous at meeting Jane again. Of course he was happy she was here, mostly because it made Phryne happy and it would have felt absolutely wrong not to have her there for the celebration. She was part of Phryne’s strange little family and he had grown to like the girl. She was clever, resourceful and resilient, and the time they had shared in an Egyptian tomb had definitely been a bonding experience. He had also secretly appreciated her little ruse with whatever piece of greenery she had declared a mistletoe last year. But even then he had still been nothing more than a family friend at best, that pesky policeman at worst. Now that he was officially Phryne’s fiancé their relationship, too, would irrevocably change and he wasn’t sure how happy Jane would be about that. With everybody else that shift had occurred gradually and they had had time to adjust, but since Jane had been abroad she hadn’t witnessed the slow development of his relationship with Phryne and the all the little steps that had brought them here. For her it would be that one day he was a regular guest, the next he practically lived at the house. Well, technically he was still in the process of moving, the lease on his old, or rather his own, apartment didn’t run out until July, but that was hardly the point. He took a deep breath to calm his thoughts. He had faced German artillery, trigger happy thugs and angry warfies for the love of God, he could face Jane Ross.

She had grown, was the first thing he noticed and immediately swore that would be the last thing he’d say to her. But it didn’t change the fact that she had and not just in height. She looked more grown up now, too, having abandoned her girlish braids in favour of a more modern and adult hairdo, similar to the one Mrs Collins usually wore. She hadn’t yet turned to make-up though for which he was infinitely glad, without being exactly sure why.  
But before he had the chance to say anything to Jane, he was engrossed by Mrs Stanley approaching him wringing her hands.  
"Oh Jack, this is dreadful." she exclaimed. "And just before the engagement party, too."  
She shot Phryne a chastising look. "You and you’re murders. Always at the least convenient time."  
"Aunt P!" Phryne protested. "You found the body."  
"Well, at least you and Jack can sort it out now," Mrs Stanley huffed, "and quickly if you please. It’s your party after all."

It still took Jack a bit of concentration not to flinch at Mrs Stanley calling him by his given name. He had offered it to her when they had told her about the engagement, since it seemed a little awkward for her to still call him 'Inspector‘ when he was her nieces intended, officially at least. They had thought it better not to get into the details of their arrangement with Mrs Stanley, an omission that Jack was absolutely sure would eventually come back to bite him. Technically he was now allowed to call her Prudence, too, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do that. She didn’t seem to mind his continued formality.  
"We’ll be trying to solve this matter as quickly as possible, Mrs Stanley." He assured her.  
"Well, that’s a relief to hear." she declared. "We really can’t postpone the party. We could never reach all the guests in time."  
"I’m sure that won’t be necessary Aunt P." Phryne replied.  
"I’ll need to ask you a few questions about your staff Mrs Stanley. Only to verify a few details." Jack explained.  
His eyes darted to Jane. She was still sitting next to Dot on the chaise Mrs Stanley had left when he had entered. She was watching him. Her face showed a wary uncertainty he hadn’t see there since he had interviewed her about the two shady characters that had exploited her and the other girls, before Phryne had taken her in. When she had only known him as the policeman, who, if he was being honest with himself, hadn’t made the best first impression. He had in that moment still be riled up by a rather close encounter with Miss Fisher in a train compartment, but that really wasn’t an excuse in his own eyes. He hoped he had made up for it somewhat in the following months and that look had never been back. But now it was, and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.  
"Hello Jane." he said, putting on a smile and hoping it wouldn’t look like a grimace.  
"Hello, Inspector." she replied sounding uncharacteristically timid.  
"It’s good to see you." he said. "Welcome back."  
She nodded politely  
"It’s good to be back." she replied.  
Then a sly grin sneaked onto her face.  
"Good to see nothing’s changed." she tilted her head towards the ballroom.  
A relieved smirk tugged on Jack’s mouth. He let it.  
"Nothing at all where it matters." he agreed conspiratorially.  
They both grinned and suddenly the tension that had been there between them was gone. He realised that he was right: Nothing that mattered had changed, in spite of ridiculously overblown parties, joined households and Mrs Stanley calling him Jack. At the core it was still him and Phryne solving cases, having nightcaps or dinners, driving each other crazy and loving it. They had only moved closer together, but neither of them had fundamentally changed. She still invaded his office and his crime scenes whenever she felt like it, he still showed up in her parlour at all hours of the day and if he now stayed the night and left after breakfast that was merely an extension (important for them, but no one else) of the relationship they had already had. Everything else, living arrangements, engagements, titles were nothing but ornamentation, a dress up for the world to see, but insignificant for the heart of the matter. And looking at Jane he realised the girl knew that. She had needed him to confirm it, more to make sure that he knew, he guessed, but now she seemed satisfied that they were on the same page.  
He shot Jane another look and turned back to Mrs Stanley.  
"How much staff do you have Mrs Stanley?" he asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. You never knew what kind of information would come in handy in the long run.  
"Precious little these days, Inspector." she replied with a sigh, inadvertently falling back to the more formal address while being interviewed.  
"I had to dismiss most menservants after my dear Edward passed and a number of staff left during that unfortunate interlude with Doctor Samuels."  
Jack nodded understandingly. It would have surprised him, if all of her staff had borne the conversion of her house into a sanatorium without complaint.  
"There is the Housekeeper, Mrs Bronfen and Mrs Greenblatt, the cook. I suppose you remember Mary and Joan?"  
Another affirmative nod from the Inspector prompted her to go on.  
"We have two other maids, Helen and Hermione. Other than that there is Mr Shruger the ground-keeper, Lionel his assistant and Paterson the chauffeur, of course. We have a gofer, Robin, although he is often more trouble than he is worth, and Albert and Mr Yates help out from time to time. I had to hire a few more footmen for the party, of course. The poor boy who died was one of them, as you surely know."  
Jack had eagerly taken notes of all she said and nodded a third time to signal he had taken it all in. Phryne was waiting next to him, mentally comparing her aunt’s account with her own knowledge of the household.  
"You don’t have a butler any more, Aunt P?" she inquired.  
"Oh, no. I couldn’t find anyone suitable after the last one we had moved to Bendigo. And it didn’t seem necessary after all." Prudence explained.  
"Of course." her niece agreed in that false demure tone that always made Jack want to laugh out loud.  
"And Robin was giving you trouble?" Phryne continued with undeterred apparent innocence.  
"He is a useless rapscallion most of the time. That’s if you can find him." her aunt huffed. "You need to keep him busy otherwise he’s always up to no good. I had several complaints from the kitchen about him. He seems to take particular delight in vexing poor Joan."  
"We heard he was good friends with Donny Wardrop, the victim." Phryne inquired. "Apparently you had to reprimand them a few times."  
Mrs Stanley harrumphed indignantly.  
"Robin Owen is a bad influence on everyone around him." she declared sternly. "I caught him and Mr Wardrop prowling instead of working a few times. Up to no good those two, as I said."  
“And yet you kept them, Aunt P?” Phryne raised an eyebrow.  
Her aunt huffed. „I wasn’t going to, but Mrs Bronfen promised to get them in line in time for the party. So I agreed to give them another chance.“

Hugh interrupted the conversation by sticking his head through the door and announcing they had found the victims missing clothes.  
“They were in his fiancés room, in a drawer next to her, er, underwear.“ he reported.  
He was sure he would have managed not to blush if Mrs Stanley hadn’t been staring at him. He lowered his eyes and handed the evidence bag to the Inspector. The gentle look he could feel from his wife helped to sooth his embarrassment a bit.  
“The shoes where there, too.” he stated.  
Jack took the paper bag from him and peered inside.  
“Did you fold them, Constable?” he asked surprised.  
“No, Sir.”  
Hugh straightened up. Really, it wasn't his first day on the job after all. Although from all he had heard about Constable Martin he could hardly blame the Inspector for making sure.  
“We found them like that.”  
Jack nodded. “Well done, Collins.”  
Phryne took the bag from his hands and peeked inside.  
“There’s no blood on them.” she observed.  
“So he didn’t wear them when he was killed?” Hugh ventured.  
“Or those are a different set of clothes.” Jack suggested.  
“Both options still beg the question why he wasn’t wearing them.” Phryne pointed out, “It seems unlikely he’d just run around half naked in the middle of winter.”  
Jack had to agree. Plus the sight of this find was more than a little suspicious  
“Do you think that warrants another chat with Miss Paterson?” he asked.  
She grinned cheekily.  
“Certainly Inspector, but before we should gather a little more information.”  
Jack raised an eyebrow in question. She grinned cheerfully at him  
“Maybe you would like to recall a comment I made once about downstairs gossip, Inspector.”  
Jack couldn't help the urge to return her grin, but kept it as small as possible.  
“What a streak of fortune then that you just happen to have your informants already planted at the heart of this household.” he said.

The 'informants' where just about to take a break from whatever they had been doing, Jack's suspicion was not very much, and immediately appeared when called. Being asked about the victim Bert shrugged.  
"He seemed like an alright bloke." he said.  
Cec nodded. "Well, apart from, you know." he raised his eyebrows eloquently.  
"Yeah, but that was before," his partner disagreed, "and it’s not like she was crazy about ’im either."  
Phryne crossed her arms in front of her chest.  
"Apart from what?" she asked "Come on, a little less cryptic if you please."  
"They were both stepping out with other people, Miss." Cec yielded.  
"That was before Ed got his knickers in a twist about them getting married, though." Bert insisted.  
"There was a bit of drama." Cec added.  
Phryne raised an eyebrow.  
"Let me guess the lady of Mr Wardrop's choice was Helen Bonnard."  
The cabby nodded.  
"So who was Miss Paterson’s suitor?"  
"Kid called Lionel Derrington." Bert supplied. "Works in the garden. Cleans the pool and such."  
Phryne clicked her tongue appreciatively.  
"And how did Mr Derrington and Mr Wardrop get along since the engagement?"  
Cec made a face that indicated a rather touchy situation. Bert on the other hand grinned.  
"Like two kittens fighting over a bowl of milk." he stated gleefully.  
Jack frowned.  
„But if Wardrop was stepping out with Miss Bonnard, why would he agree to marry Miss Paterson?“ he asked.  
Bert shrugged. „Maybe 'e thought 'e owed it to old Ed. Practically raised the lad after the war from what we 'ear.“  
“That’s not a very good reason to marry someone.” Phryne decreed sceptically.  
“People marry for worse reasons.” Bert pointed out.  
“Any idea why Mr Paterson was so keen on the two of them marrying?” Jack wanted to know.  
“Says it’s been ‘is and Donnies dad’s favourite idea ever since their kids were little.” Cec explained.  
“Also not a good reason.” Phryne said.  
The cabby shrugged. “It 'appens, Miss.”  
“How did Miss Bonnard react to the engagement?” Phryne pushed on.  
Cec sighed sympathetically.  
“She was right heartbroken, Miss.” he stated.  
“Yeah, there’s been a lot of bawling.” his partner agreed.  
“Didn’t seem to hurt her friendship with the Paterson girl though.” he added after a moments thought.  
“Nah, they was still thick as thieves.” Cec confirmed.  
“Why, this is very midsummer madness, don’t you think, Jack?” Phryne commented, raising an eyebrow.  
“I wasn’t sure you’d notice, Miss Fisher.” Jack replied with a twinkle in his eye.  
“Has my knowledge of the bard ever disappointed you, Inspector?” she mock pouted.  
He gave her a tiny smirk. “Never, Miss Fisher. There isn’t any performance planned for the party, I hope?” he added with a grimace.  
“I’d worry more about fairy dust, if I were you, Jack.” she returned with a wicked smile.  
Bert let out a cough and Phryne could just about see Cec’s mouth snap shut when they turned back to the two cabbies. Jack cleared his throat, as he tended to do to cover his own embarrassment, but Phryne wasn’t worried about him for the moment. She followed the looks Bert and Cec exchanged. She knew those looks. Those two knew something, but she could also tell that they weren’t likely to spill the beans in front of a police officer, no matter how well they knew him. She would have to come back to them another time, preferably when Jack was busy with paperwork or the like.  
“What about this Robin person?” Phryne asked.  
Bert and Cec exchanged another telling look.  
“Cheeky one that one.” Bert assessed.  
“He was close friends with Donny?” she probed  
“They were always putting their heads together.” he confirmed a little too none committal for her taste. “You’re aunt don’t like him, though. Says 'e’s never where 'e’s supposed to be.” Bert added.  
That alone wasn't exactly something to make one suspicious in Jack's mind, but he kept that opinion to himself. It was interesting none the less. He thanked the cabbies and let them scoot of to entertain Jane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phryne quotes Twelfth Night Act 3 scene 4 line 53 (Oxford 1994. Ed. Rodger Warren & Stanley Wells)  
> I never meant for this to become so meta, but those two are cleverer than me and they called me out.


	4. As she is mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title: MSND 1.1.42

They were just headed for the kitchen to have another word with Helen Bonnard and Minnie Paterson, when a sturdy young man barrelled past them. He stormed into the kitchen and headed straight for Minnie, who was again seated at the table. He wrapped her in his arms and pressed her tightly to him.  
Jack and Phryne watched the scene from the door. Everyone else in the kitchen ignored them and was suddenly very busy doing anything else, but Phryne also noted that any conversation had seized and she imagined everyone was listening with bated breath for anything the two people, who clearly were lovers, might say. Unfortunately they didn’t say anything. Finally Jack stepped in and addressed the young man.  
“Lionel Derrington? Detective Inspector Robinson. I’d like to have a word.“

Lionel Derrington was almost the antithesis of Donny Wardrop. Where Donny had been long limbed, lean, yet well shaped, with light skin and dark hair, Lionel was stout, muscular, with a dark tan and sun bleached blond hair. It was obvious in every aspect of his physique that he worked outdoors.  
His light, sharp eyes darted between the two detectives as they took their seats in the parlour again.  
“Is it true?“ he asked a little breathless, “Donny was murdered?“  
“It would seem so.“ Jack confirmed a little reluctantly.  
He always hesitated to use the word murder, even if it very clearly was one. People reacted differently to that word than to any other careful circumscription.  
“May I ask where you were last night between ten and midnight, Mr Derrington?“  
Lionel thought for a moment. Phryne noted with a hint of astonishment that he didn’t seem surprised or offended at the question like most people would.  
“I left the kitchen at around nine, I think, and headed for the stables. That’s where I stay now, that Mr Brown is gone. I went straight to bed.“  
“Can anyone verify that?“ Jack proceeded according to the usual routine.  
He had already noted that Herbert Brown had been absent form Mrs Stanley’s list of servants, but hadn’t questioned it. The man had been an odious fellow with a tendency to drink, even before he had lost his daughter to a murderous madman. It didn’t seem unreasonable he wouldn’t work for Mrs Stanely any more. He’d have to ask Phryne later, she would probably know.  
“No.“ Lionel answered the question, “Mr Shruger, the ground keeper, lives in Richmond with his wife and everyone else stays at the house.“  
“We heard you had some disagreements with Mr Wardrop.“ Phryne took over.  
The young man didn’t look surprised about that either.  
“About Minnie you mean? Yeah, but I didn’t kill him. I didn’t have to.“  
“What do you mean? She was engaged to marry him, wasn't she?“  
Lionel made a dismissive gesture.  
“Yeah, that was her old man’s idea, but she would have never gone through with it. Minnie loves me and I love her. We were gonna go away together, to Adelaide. We were only waiting for the big bash to be over and then we had train tickets for Monday.“  
His eyes were glowing and his voice had a slightly dreamy quality. Jack and Phryne exchanged a look.  
“Did Donny know about your plans?“  
Derrington shook his head.  
“No. No one knew, just us, and I think Helen maybe. We knew she wouldn’t tell on us, because she was sweet on Donny and with Minnie out of the way she thought he’d come back to her.“

“He could be lying.“ Phryne noted, when the young man had returned to his sweetheart in the kitchen.  
“He could,“ Jack agreed, “or he could tell the truth and have killed Wardrop anyway.“ he suggested. Phryne looked unconvinced.  
“He wouldn’t have a motive if he was eloping with his girl.“ she pointed out.  
Jack shrugged.  
“I’ve learned to never discount the force of jealousy.“ he said matter-of-factly.  
She gave him an appraising look.  
“I’ve gotten engaged to a wise man.“  
“I’m not sure if the one thing doesn’t negate the other.“ he replied dryly, but there was a deep fondness in his eyes that pulled a wide smile to her face.  
“Well,“ she forced her mind back to the case with some unwillingness, “if we’re accounting for jealousy we can’t exclude Helen, either.“ she said.  
Jack nodded. “I wasn’t going to, Miss Fisher. We need to verify her alibi and if she knew about the elopement plans.“  
“Which we need Minnie to confirm.“ she interjected.  
“Indeed. She has of course the same motive as Mr Derrington.“  
Phryne agreed. “I’m very curious about her father.“ she admitted, “Why is he so keen on that marriage. Do you think Minnie may be in some kind of trouble? That certainly would explain the rush to marry her off, but not why it had to be Wardrop, when Derrington appears to be willing.“  
Jack tilted his head in thought.  
“True,“ he conceded, “but parents sometimes have good reasons to object to their children’s choice in partner. Reasons the children might not understand or agree with.“ he noted.  
She raised an eyebrow.  
“It’s hardly the parents choice though. It’s not their lives.“ she stated defiantly.  
Jack gave her an amused look.  
“Are we still talking about Minnie Paterson here?“ he asked.  
Phryne refused to be cornered though. Yes, she would, well had, told her parents off rather impetuously, if they ever dared voicing an opinion on who she was involved with or not. The last time had only been a few weeks ago when her mother had telegraphed in a huff about the engagement. But they really couldn’t claim any right to meddle with her life any more. And besides he had started it.  
“I don’t know.“ she said haughtily. “Are we?“  
To her surprise Jack’s eyes dropped a little.  
“My mother was never very keen on me marring Rosie.“ he admitted. “She said we were too young, moved too fast, weren’t well suited. She didn’t stop me of course, but she was right in the end.“  
Almost involuntarily Phryne reached for his hands. From all she had heard about Jack’s mother she was truly sorry she hadn’t gotten to meet her and she knew that her death had left a gaping hole in Jack’s life.  
“But she didn’t stop you.“ she said tenderly. “That’s what I mean: She accepted that it was your choice, your life.“  
“I’m not sure acceptance is the right word.“ he tried to joke, to get past the lump that had somehow formed in his throat.  
“She was never the type to sit down and shut up if she didn’t like something.“  
Phryne smiled. She really did like the sound of Abigail Robinson, although it made her wonder sometimes if Jack was like her at all.  
“Well, how about we find Mr Paterson and see what type of parent he is?“ she suggested.  
Looking at her Jack had to seriously remind himself that it would be absolutely inappropriate to kiss her while working. Especially in her aunts house who, even now, still had an uncanny knack to appear out of nowhere in the least convenient moment. So he just nodded and turned to a different subject while they were making their way to finding the driver.

“So what happened with Mr Brown?“ Jack decided to satisfy his curiosity.  
Phryne shrugged, not surprised by his change of topic. Jack didn’t like talking about his feelings any more than her.  
“Aunt P sold the horses after Arthur’s death. God knows why she held on to them for so long in the first place. You know Guy doesn’t ride and I doubt Aunt P has been on horseback in 20 years.“ her voice softened a little.  
“I think Arthur liked watching them. But well, after he was gone there wasn’t really any use left for them, so she sold them and Mr Brown had to go.“  
Jack nodded understandingly. He had wondered about the horses from the moment he had learned that Guy Stanley was scared of them, but this explained it. Mrs Stanley would have done almost anything for Arthur. It seemed the matter of parenthood wasn’t so easily left behind.

Jack had once told Phryne he had interviewed Mrs Stanley’s driver several times. That hadn’t been exactly the truth. He had read several reports on interviews with the chauffeur, but so far it had always been Hugh who had done the actual interview, as was the usual procedure with witnesses that needed to be questioned just in case, but were unlikely to know anything significant. So this was in fact the first time Jack actually talked to Ed Paterson in person. He was a little older than he had imagined, and a his face a little harder than he would have expected from someone who drove an old lady around for a living. But then again said old lady was Prudence Stanley and Mr Paterson had just lost his future son-in-law.  
“'e’s me best mate’s kid, that’s right,“ Mr Paterson confirmed, sounding a little strangled, “Geoff an‘ me, we’re at the Somme together. Shell went off three feet from us. I got lucky, but Geoff didn’t make it. We’d made a deal if one of us should make it back home and the other didn’t. I’s supposed to take care of the lad.“  
He took a deep breath to steady himself when his voice nearly gave out.  
“Donny's only twelve when I got back so I tried me ‘ardest to be there for ‘im. For ‘im and Evie, ‘is mum. Died six years ago, poor dear.“  
Jack had nodded understandingly throughout the man’s story. It was a common story, diggers promising each other to look after the others family, if one should make it home and the other didn’t. Unlike many of his mates, Ed had not only been able to keep his promise, but had also done it wholeheartedly it seemed. Jack could only admire the man’s loyalty. In many other cases 'looking after‘ had eventually wound down to visits every other month and gifts on Christmas and birthdays, unless it had led to marrying the widow, which wasn't always an option. It was understandable that after all these years of keeping his vow Paterson now felt like he had let down his friend. Unfortunately Jack’s sympathy couldn’t spare the man this interview, so he pushed on, gently, but determined.  
“It was your idea to marry Donny and your daughter?“  
Phryne watched Jack admiringly. She, too understood the promise Mr Paterson had made, and she knew Jack was impressed with the way he had kept it. She suspected Jack might have made similar promises during his time in the trenches, even if they rarely ever spoke about the war. But then again if he had, knowing him he'd probably be keeping them just as faithfully. She knew Jack sympathised with this man, who had lost the son he had taken on from his best friend. She was all the more impressed with the way he could still do his job and ask all the important questions in spite of his own feelings.  
Phryne had always admired Jack’s ability to compartmentalise. While she let her feelings guide her and rarely made a distinction between the personal and the professional, Jack had that line very clearly drawn and generally maintained it, few rare exceptions not withstanding. She knew he loved and desired her more than she would have thought possible only a year ago, but when he was working he was able to push that largely aside and lock it in some mental box, and no matter how much she prodded and teased, she rarely managed to make a dent in it. It manifested in the way he called her Miss Fisher when they were working together and Phryne when they were at home. It was what made him such a good detective, because he maintained his objectivity and was never blind sided by his own feelings. It wasn’t the way she operated, relying on her intuition and gut feeling, but it was something about him she greatly admired, especially as it made it so much more precious when he did let his emotions run free.  
Ed Paterson nodded.  
“It’s what 'is dad would have wanted.“ he said with some conviction. “Geoff and I would talk about it in the trenches, what a nice thing it would be if ‘is boy married me little girl. But even so,“ he added with a look at Miss Fisher who did little to hide her disgust at his statement, “Donny was a good lad. 'e’d been a good ‘usband for any girl, an‘ ‘im an‘ me Minnie practically grew up together. They’d been good together an‘ I wanted to get ‘er settled. Ain’t no good time for a girl not to be thinkin‘ of the future.“ he emphasised.  
“What about the fact that Minnie wanted to marry someone else?“ Phryne asked rather more sharply than might have been polite.  
So she wasn’t as good separating her emotions from her work, so what? Most of the time that was her strength. She could appreciate that Paterson might actually have his daughters best interest in mind, but so had Herbert Brown when he had belted his daughter. There were few things she loathed more than the notion that a woman couldn't possibly know what was best for herself.  
“What Derrington?“ the old man sneered, “It’s a fancy, it woulda blown over. It will blow over.“ he declared grimly.  
“Do you have any idea why anyone would want to harm Donny?“ Jack asked.  
He still kept his voice calm and professional, his face clear of any emotion. Phryne bit her tongue but didn't particularly feel like letting her anger dissipate.  
Ed shook his head. “No one other than Derrington. But I doubt ‘e’d ‘ave the guts to do it.“ he said disparagingly, “But Donny was 'avin' words with that scallywag Robin, yesterday. No idea what about though. ’e’s a bad influence on Donny, that one.“  
Jack nodded. “Thank you Mr Paterson.“

“You didn’t tell him they were planing to elope.“ Phryne observed as they returned to the kitchen.  
“We only have Mr Derrington’s word for it at this stage.“ Jack said defensively. “And it wouldn’t give him a motive to kill Wardrop.“  
“No,“ she had to agree and beamed at him.  
“It might still come up though. It would strengthen his daughters motive if he had known.“ Jack warned her, however unable to keep the smile from his eyes.  
It always surprised and charmed him how much she was a romantic at heart, despite her continued declaration of the opposite.

Normally Jack would have left the other servants to Hugh and his other constables to interview, but Phryne wanted to use the opportunity to catch up with Mary and Joan, the two girls that had helped them in the case surrounding George Sanderson and Sydney Fletcher. They had both been working for Prudence Stanley ever since, but during her last cases at her aunt’s Phryne hadn’t had the chance to check in with them. So she headed straight back to the kitchen and Jack reluctantly followed her. The two girls were waiting at the kitchen table enjoying their limited free time while they waited to be interviewed. The others seemed to have withdrawn. Jack suspected Miss Paterson was being comforted by her boyfriend and wouldn't be easy to find right now.  
When she saw Phryne, Mary jumped to her feet, a big grin on her face. Phryne mirrored her expression and gave the girl a friendly hug.  
„How are you Mary?“  
The young woman smiled cheekily  
„Can’t complain.“ she admitted. „I even got a compliment from Mrs S the other day.“  
„You must be doing extraordinarily then.“ Phryne beamed. „And how is your little boy.“  
She peered around the kitchen, as Jack knew, to make sure the child wasn’t anywhere nearby. Mary laughed.  
„He’s good. He grows faster than I can let out his clothes an' he hates anything that involves potatoes. God knows what that is about, but he’s doing fine. He’s with Alice Yates when I work. It was Cec’s idea that she could mind him and a few other kids while she’s out of a job, to make a bit of money on the side.“  
Phryne nodded. She had known, that Cec’s wife had been another one of the the many who had lost her place of employment when the cities wealthy had been hit by the recession. The poor girl really had no luck with her work. Phryne had wanted to help Alice, but there had simply been no place in her own household and Aunt P, despite her bravado had made a few ill advised investments herself. She wasn’t in danger of financial ruin as far as her niece was aware, but she knew there was a reason her aunt hadn’t rehired most of her staff permanently. And it wasn't that they weren't needed to maintain the large house. So all she could think to do was to give Cec a bit of a raise to help him make ends meet. She was glad to hear that Alice had found something to occupy her that could even help other young women as well.  
„That’s very good to hear.“ she said warmly. „And it’s very good to see you, too, Joan.“  
The other girl smiled shyly. „Thank you, Miss Fisher, you too.“  
„We’re going to have to ask you about Donny.“ Jack opened up the official part of the conversation.  
The two girls exchanged a look.  
„We didn’t know him very well.“ Mary supplied. „He’d been around a few times before, usually visiting Helen or Ed. Sometimes he’d hang around the kitchen with Robin, the gofer, until Mrs Greenblatt would kick’em out. He was a bit of a git, specially with Robin. Always nicking food, sticking their dirty fingers in the pots. I’ve been putting fleas in their ears a few times for hassling Joan, too.“  
She gave the other girl a grimly protective look. After their escape from slave traders and hypocritical nuns the two had grown to become close friends it seemed.  
„Sound’s like a real gentleman.“ Phryne commented dryly. „But he only ever came to visit Helen, not Minnie?“  
„Not until they got engaged.“ Joan stated. „He’s been stepping out with Helen before that. Poor Helen, sold her right down the river.“ the girl added contemplatively.  
Phryne raised an eyebrow at Jack.  
„So she didn’t take it well then?“ she asked.  
„It’s been weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.“ Mary replied dryly. „Fancied the pants off him, she did. Literally, if you’re asking me.“ a wicked grin stole onto her face.  
„We heard Minnie wasn’t too happy about the engagement either.“ Phryne prodded further.  
„Oh no. She was spitting chips at her old man.“  
Mary grinned almost as amused as Bert had been earlier.  
„She’s sweet on Lionel Derrington, everyone knows that.“  
„He wanted to marry her.“ Joan provided.  
„They’re disgustingly adorable.“ Mary agreed.  
„None of you share a room with Miss Paterson in the servants quarters, is that correct?“ Jack asked.  
Hugh had provided him with the distribution of the servants quarters before they had started their interviews. The girls nodded.  
„So we have no way of knowing if Miss Paterson was in her bed all night as she claims.“ he said to Miss Fisher.  
"Like rot she was." Mary exclaimed.  
She blushed a little and hurried to explain.  
"It’s right she’s got a room of her own, because I have Toby, so I normally wouldn’t know. But he’s still teething, so he’s been keeping me up half the night. I got out to get some water and I saw her sneak out the room."  
"When was that?" Phryne inquired excitedly.  
Mary frowned. "Must have been after nine, because I remember hearing that wretched clock in Mrs Bronfen’s room strike. That thing alone can keep you up all night."  
"Did you hear her come back?" Jack asked.  
The girl shook her head.  
"Not before I fell asleep sometime before one. And she had to get past my door to get to her room. The floor’s all wood, and creaky as hell, so I would have heard her, even with the baby crying."  
“What about Helen? You share a room with her, Joan, don’t you?” Phryne inquired.  
The girl nodded. “She wasn’t in when I went to bed, Miss Fisher. I don’t know when she came back, but I heard the clock strike half nine, before I fell asleep, so it must have been later.” she reported.  
Not the best of alibis either Phryne's look communicated to Jack. He tilted his head in agreement.  
“Minnie said no one thought to look for Donny because you just thought he was late,” Phryne returned to the girls, “did that happen often?”  
The two exchanged glances.  
“He's not been working here very long.” Joan demurred  
“But I heard Mrs B berating him a couple times for coming late and looking like shit.” Mary added, “I reckon he had a few long nights.”


	5. How often hast thou heard my moans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title: MSND 5.1.187

“We definitely need to have another chat with those two girls.” Phryne repeated once again.  
Jack took a look at his watch.  
“I agree, but it’s past five already.” he noted. “I’ll still need to get back to the station to get the paperwork on this case started and round up what else has come past my desk today.”  
Phryne didn’t even listen any more.  
“Oh, no!” she exclaimed, “I wanted to take Jane out for tea as a welcome home.”  
She looked crestfallen.  
“She’ll understand.” Jack tried to console her “And I’m sure Mr Butler‘s dinner will make more than up for it.”  
“Actually that’s alright.”  
Jane stood in the doorway to the tearoom, where she had spend the afternoon with Dot and Aunt Prudence.  
“Aunt Prudence offered us tea.” she explained with a crooked smile, “I’m not sure I want to eat again ever in my life. But she asked me to offer you two some sandwiches and biscuits.” she added.  
Jack tried to ignore his stomach, which insisted on forcefully reminding him that he had missed lunch today.  
“I should really head to the station, if I want to be able to leave it again any time today.” he said.  
Phryne smiled knowingly.  
“Maybe you could convince Mary to pack up a few of those sandwiches for the Inspector to take with him.” she instructed Jane.  
The girl nodded and scooted off.  
“I’ll have to stay here and make sure Aunt P’s alright.” she turned back to Jack. “She’ll want to go over any necessary rearrangements for the party. It’ll calm her to fuss about something. And maybe I can wiggle some more information out of her, although I’m not too optimistic.”  
Jack nodded.  
“So we’ll talk to the maids again tomorrow.” he concluded.  
“And this Robin fellow.” she added.  
“Right.” he agreed, “Mac’ll have the autopsy reports by then, too, so we can start the day in the morgue.”  
Phryne made a face. This would mean getting up early.  
“Always an auspicious start for a day.” she commented.

Jane came back from the kitchen loaded with a massive parcel of sandwiches and a Thermos of tea, both of which Jack was asked, by Dot, to share with Constable Collins. After assuring her her husband would be suitably cared for and saying his farewells to Jane and Mrs Stanley the Inspector took his leave. Phryne accompanied him out to his car.  
“See you tonight.” she gave him a light kiss on the cheek.  
Jack hesitated, just a little, but she noticed.  
“What is it?”  
„I should go home.” he said.  
“That’s what I just said, isn’t it.” she replied cheekily.  
“I mean my home.” he clarified.  
“Jack!” she protested, “Don’t be silly, everything’s already packed up at your place. Do you even still have a bed?”  
“Of course I do. I sold it to Constable Richards, but he won’t move into his new place until the end of the month.” he stated.  
“How fortuitous.” Phryne replied dryly.  
“Jane just got back, she’ll want to spend some time with you. Without me.” he tried to explain, “I don’t want her to feel I’m intruding on her first day with you any more than I already have.”  
“Now you’re just being ridiculous, Jack. It’s hardly your fault that there’s been a murder.” she protested. “And she’ll have to get used to you anyway, you’re officially moving in in two weeks.”  
“And that’s two weeks she’ll have time to get used to me being around.” he explained. “It’ll be a change for her, too.”  
“Jane can handle a little change. You were around plenty before, Jack.” Phryne said almost petulantly.  
She could see he wasn’t going to budge in this matter, but wasn't ready to give in quite so easily either.  
“Does that mean you intent to stay away the whole two weeks, because if you do that, I don’t know if I’ll still remember who you are.”  
“Of course not.”  
Jack sounded so horrified at the suggestion it almost made her laugh despite her disappointment. But it comforted her to know he wasn’t losing interest or having second thoughts.  
“I just think we should take it a bit slow for Jane and I to get used to each other. Just give her this first night.”  
Phryne sighed. She really couldn’t stay mad at him when he was being so damned noble.  
“At least tonight will serve as a reminder exactly why we’re doing all of this.” she grumbled, waving her hand vaguely at her aunts house.  
Jack chuckled quietly.  
“If you need to be reminded, I’m clearly doing something wrong.”  
“Yes, you are. It’s called doing the right thing and entails you sleeping not in my bed tonight.” she chided, before she pulled him in for a long, deep kiss.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the morgue.” he murmured against her lips, before giving her another quick kiss and, very reluctantly, pulling away.

The tea and Jane’s company seemed to have done Aunt Prudence good. She was almost back to her old self, when Phryne returned to the tea room. Which of course meant she was disapproving of something.  
“My dear girl, if I had had any idea you’d expose young Jane to such adventures...” she started, pronouncing the word as if it had a sour taste.  
“I didn’t expose her to anything, I merely bought her a ticket.” her niece defended herself.  
“I told her about Barcelona.” Jane confessed a little sheepishly.  
Phryne rolled her eyes.  
“Ginny Barton and the pickpockets?” she asked critically.  
“It’s a funny story.” Jane said defensively.  
“Probably not for her.” Phryne commented dryly.  
Now it was Jane’s turn to roll her eyes.  
“She almost deserved it. The way she was ogling the guy, like she’d never seen a magic trick before.”  
“Maybe she hadn’t.” her guardian suggested, “Some people are lucky enough not to have been raised by crooks. Or so I’ve been told.”  
“He wasn’t even good.” Jane muttered under her breath. “And I did get her money back.” she added louder.  
“And that was very good of you.” Phryne said with a proud smile.  
“I’m not gonna let anyone steal from my friends.” Jane declared with determination. “Even if they’re behaving like silly airheads.”  
“This is all very unladylike.” Aunt Prudence complained.  
“It’s better than letting yourself be robbed, Aunt P.” Phryne immediately jumped to her ward's defence.  
Her aunt didn’t seem entirely convinced, but condescended to a doubtful “I suppose.”  
“You wanted to talk to me about the party.” Phryne reminded her aunt in the hopes of terminating this particular conversation.  
Prudence immediately perked up.  
“Yes, of course. We’ve already agreed to go ahead with it, haven’t we? I have called the agency to send a replacement for the poor young man and told them to keep someone in reserve, in case your Inspector has to arrest someone else of my staff.”  
Phryne sensed an, in her opinion, utterly unnecessary sharpness in those words.  
“Good.” she said, “I think we’d all prefer not to be served by a murderer.”  
Maybe she was beeing just a little more prickly than normal, but she was still reeling from knowing that Jack wouldn't come home tonight and her aunt's nagging really was the last thing she needed.  
“Of course.” her Aunt Prudence acquiesced, “Do you think you can get this whole investigation over with until the weekend?”  
“That’s impossible to say at this stage, Aunt P, we’ve only just started.”  
Mrs Stanley sighed, but seemed to accept that statement.  
“Well,” she said with forced patience, “then that really only leaves the question of the table decorations.”

Of course the question of the table decorations was not the only one left and the whole affair dragged on until the Fisher household finally made it home just in time for dinner. Dot immediately continued homewards, thankful she still had leftovers from the previous day that could quickly be turned into a decent dinner for her and Hugh.  
Despite her previous declarations Jane did eat dinner and even worked up quite an appetite. Phryne decided not to tease her about it. Mr Butler had pulled out all the stops and created a whole menu of Jane’s favourite dishes that were simply irresistible.  
During dinner Jane told more stories of her travels, she hadn’t already written about, from school and about her plans for the winter before she would return for her last year in school in spring. Phryne told stories from her trip to England, and some of the cases she had been working on since Jane had been in Melbourne last. A special treat was the one where she had performed the miraculous mermaid act, which made Jane’s eyes widen in amazement, and the time when Aunt Prudence had opened her house for a women’s sanatorium, a tale that had Jane in stitches.  
“I can’t imagine Aunt Prudence would do such a thing!” she exclaimed. “Wasn’t she going crazy?”  
“Well, you could say, she wasn’t in her right mind at the time.” Phryne admitted sympathetically.  
She still felt a little guilty for not noticing just how much Arthur’s death had weighed on her aunt.  
“But it was very good of her to give these women a place.” Jane said, “It wouldn’t have been like some of those other places.”  
Phryne could hear the dread in her voice she knew came from the girls experience with her own mother.  
“No, they had it good there. And most importantly, they were safe.” she confirmed gently.  
“Just well enough, Guy didn’t decide to pop in during that time.” she tried to lead the conversation back to a lighter tone, “That would have been like putting a fox in a hen house. Him and Dolores would have gotten on like a house on fire.”  
“Oh, I almost forgot!”  
Jane jumped up and sprinted to her room without further warning. When she came back she brought a neatly packed parcel with her, which she handed Phryne.  
“For you. Cousin Guy gave it to me to take here, when I met him and Isabella in Nice. He said not to open it until before the party and he also told me not to tell the Inspector about it.” she reported.  
Phryne inspected the package suspiciously. She gave it a quick shake and a sniff. Her face indicated that she was trying very hard not to grin, despite the fact that she was resolving to have a serious conversation with her cousin about using Jane as a carrier.  
“I have a sneaking suspicion we also want to keep it well away from Mr Butler.” she mused.  
Jane gave her a confused look, but seemed to be content with not getting an answer when Phryne just shook her head lightly. Something else seemed to take priority over the girl’s natural curiosity.  
“Is he coming over tonight, the Inspector.” she asked shyly, playing with her dessert spoon.  
Phryne shook her head.  
“No. He felt he shouldn’t 'intrude on your first night home‘, as he put it.” she explained.  
Jane seemed a little relieved, which shocked Phryne more than she would have thought possible. Not just the fact that Jack was right, that was something that tended to happen, he was a clever man after all, but to her it had seemed as if whatever initial tension there had been between the two had subsided this morning when they had greeted each other. Now it seemed to be back at full force. It unsettled Phryne and frightened her more than just a little. Jack and Jane were the two single most important people in her life. Naturally she wanted them to get along and so far it had seemed as if they would. In the past there had always been a sense of mutual respect and maybe even understanding between Jane and Jack. It had seemed to her like there was even a great potential for friendship. Phryne wasn’t quite certain she understood what had changed.  
“He will be staying the night at some point later this week.” she said tentatively, “Is that alright?“  
Jane nodded equally tentatively. Phryne frowned.  
“Talk to me, Jane.” she begged. “You never had a problem with my overnight guests before.”  
Jane avoided her eyes for a moment.  
“I didn’t know them.” she said. “Most of the time I didn’t even meet them. They were just... But this is the Inspector and he’ll live here, with us.”  
“And that’s a problem?”  
“No! I like Inspector Robinson. And I like that you’re happy. That he makes you happy. And he’s nice man. It’s just that... It’ll be weird to sit down and have breakfast with him when...” Jane hesitated and to Phryne’s infinite surprise the girl turned beetroot red.  
She took a deep breath before she pressed on, studiously avoiding to look at Phryne:  
“You know that you can hear the noise from your room in mine sometimes?”  
Finally it was out. Jane blushed a shade even darker, when she finally met her guardian’s eyes. Phryne was dumb folded for a moment before she was overcome with the urge to laugh hysterically. She controlled it in an heroic effort and held her daughter‘s eyes. The part of her that wasn’t roaring with laughter was aware that she had to take this seriously.  
“I see.” she said. “So you’re worried it’ll be awkward to face Jack after you’ve heard us?”  
Jane nodded, still blushing deeply.  
“You do remember that talk we had before you left for Europe?” Phryne reminded her.  
“There is nothing wrong or shameful in what we’re doing...”  
“No, that’s not it.” Jane assured her. “It’s just that it makes me think about what you’re doing and I don’t really want to imagine the Inspector doing that. With you.”  
She looked at the table, apparently ashamed of her own bashfulness.  
“And also sometimes these noises are really funny.”  
This time Phryne didn’t manage to suppress a chuckle.  
“That they can be.” she agreed.  
“Does that mean all this time you heard...?” she asked after a moment’s reflection.  
This time Jane shot her a look that was more impish than embarrassed.  
“Sometimes.” she said, in the innocent tone she usually used when she knew she had done something most of the world would consider unseemly, but Phryne was not most of the world.  
“There was this one guy you brought home from your friend Stanley’s birthday party...”  
Phryne made a face at the memory of that particular night.  
“Phil.” she remembered his name. “It would seem Stanley had horrible taste in most his acquaintances, not just his wife.”  
“He sounded like someone was stepping on a mouse.” Jane told her.  
Phryne laughed.  
“He did, didn’t he?” she had to agree.  
Phil had been a terrible disappointment. Those didn’t happen often with the Honourable Miss Fisher, but sometimes they did. Or had, rather.  
“But you see, what if the Inspector sounds like that? How could I ever talk to him again and not think of that?” Jane returned to the topic at hand.  
“Jack doesn’t sound like that.” Phryne declared, a pleasant shiver running down her spine at the thought of just what kind of noises Jack did make and the delightful depths that voice of his could reach.  
There was of course the issue of what he sometimes said. It would no doubt be very educational for Jane to overhear, but she also knew that should Jack ever find out he’d be just as mortified. Jane rolled her eyes.  
“That’s not the point.”  
Phryne nodded.  
“Of course not.” she sighed, “I understand your issue, I’m just not sure what I can do about it? Do you want a different room?”  
“I doubt that would help,” Jane sighed, as well, “I think Dot heard, too.”  
Phryne raised an eyebrow.  
“Oh dear. No wonder her priest had such a terrible opinion of me.” she grinned wickedly.  
“We’ll figure something out, alright?” she promised seriously.  
Jane nodded relieved. If Miss Phryne said she would find a solution then she would, of that the girl was absolutely certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea when a school year (in Australia or France) would have started or ended in 1930, I just wanted Jane to have a bit of a break. 
> 
> Phil is a friend of Stanley Burrows I had to make up because it seems as if Jane has actually not been in the house during any of Phryne's affairs in Seasons 1 & 2\. Who knew Phryne was such a responsible parent? The only one who would have been possible is Lin and as much as I really don't like him, I doubt Phryne would have kept him around if he'd been terrible, so he didn't fit the bill. Hence Phil.


	6. I wooed thee with my sword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MSND 1.1.16

“The cause of death is rather obvious.“ Mac pointed at the long, strong blade she had extracted from the wound.  
“I’m no expert, but I believe this is a Spada da lato, also known as side sword.“ she stated.  
“I never knew you were a weapons specialist, Doctor.“ Jack noted.  
Mac merely shrugged.  
“You’d be surprised by the things I have pulled out of people’s bodies, Inspector. You remember the case involving a collector of antique weapons last year?“ she reminded him.  
Phryne looked between them a little confused as the two shared a clear moment of recollection.  
“That was a broadsword though.“ Jack pointed out.  
“It was just after you left for England.“ he filled Phryne in.  
Mac nodded sagely, trying to ignore that her best friend looked like a child that had just spied the most wonderful toy on display and was now plotting how to get to it.  
“I may have red up on the subject after that. Surprisingly interesting topic.“ the doctor admitted before she returned to the body in front of her:  
“I’ll stick to my assessment regarding the time of death.“  
Phryne however, wasn’t ready to let this titbit go just yet.  
“Jack Robinson, you rotten liar. You told me you didn’t have any interesting cases while I was gone.“ she accused Jack.  
“The weapon of choice was the most interesting thing about that case.“ he refuted her complaint.  
“I'll be the judge of that.“ Phryne declared, half threat, half promise in her voice.  
Mac continued her report ignoring the banter. She had practice after all:  
“I’m still waiting for results on the stomach contents. Didn’t look suspicious though.“  
Another nod from the Inspector, glad someone seemed to be focusing on the task at hand.  
“Anything else Doctor?“ he asked.  
Mac wiggled her head slightly.  
“He was definitely not wearing any clothes on his upper body, when he was killed. There were no traces of fabric in the wound or the blood and there was no smearing either.“ she declared.  
“But why would he be running around the house at night with no shirt on?“ Jack asked irritably.  
Phryne seemed to have some ideas.  
“He clearly wasn’t alone.“ she indicated.  
“Or there could be another explanation.“ Mac chimed in.  
The two detectives turned to face her.  
“What did you find?“ Phryne asked intrigued.  
Mac allowed herself a smug look.  
"You’re victim had a high dose of cocaine in his blood."she announced.  
Jack groaned. She should really have led with that, he thought. Phryne raised her eyebrows.  
“He doesn’t seem like he could afford such a habit." she noted.  
Mac only shrugged. “They usually find a way. And his nasal cavities leave little doubt that he was a regular consumer. I’m still running a test on his hair, but I’m sure I’ll find it’s been a long term habit. The high dose indicates as much."  
Jack tilted his head.  
“Looks like we found your fairy dust, Miss Fisher.“ he stated sardonically.  
Her reaction wasn’t quite what he had expected:  
“That’s what they were hiding!“ she exclaimed.  
Two pairs of eyes looked at her in confusion.  
“Who?“ Jack finally asked.  
“Bert and Cec, of course. Did you see that look they had when I mentioned fairy dust yesterday?“  
Jack nodded. “I did.“ he confessed.  
“And you didn’t get suspicious?“ she asked slightly incredulous.  
He rolled his eyes.  
“I’m always suspicious of those two,“ he insisted, “but if I went after every suspicious thing they ever did, I would never do anything else. You think they knew about the cocaine?“  
She nodded. “And they might know where he got it from.“  
Jack tutted. “They’ll never tell me.“  
Phryne grinned mischievously.  
“No“ she concurred, “but they are going to tell me.“  
She took a step closer to play with the lapels of his coat.  
“How about you go and talk to Helen and Minnie again, while I have a word with them. I have another appointment just before lunch and then I can meet you at Aunt P’s and we can proceed with the information we come up with.“ she suggested in a low voice and tone that was utterly inappropriate for the morgue.  
“And you’re surprised that I’m trying to steal Romeo and Juliet from you.“ Mac commented dryly. “Good thing you’re not actually getting married. You two as newly-weds would be unbearable.“

On his arrival at the station Jack was greeted by Constable Collins holding a newspaper.  
“Any news Collins?“  
Jack didn’t even bother heading for his office. If it was important Hugh would tell him, and otherwise they would head straight out to Mrs Stanley.  
“Nothing on the case, Sir, only a call from the prosecutor’s office: Mr Everett wanted to talk to you about your testimony in the Barnes case, but he said he’d be in court until the afternoon and to call him back then.“  
Jack nodded and made a mental note to do just that.  
But Hugh didn’t seem quite finished.  
“And then there is this, Sir.“  
He handed him the newspaper.  
“Seems like Fredrick Burn was sneaking around the Stanley estate again yesterday, Sir.“ he informed Jack with a telling look on his face.  
The Inspector suppressed a groan.  
“How bad is it Collins?“ he asked.  
Burn, as well as several other photographers had been haunting Mrs Stanley’s home since the day the engagement had been announced. A few had ventured to Wardlow, but the house offered less interesting views apart from people coming and leaving. There had also been a few incidents at the police station, but after two photographers had been arrested and charged with harassment and obstruction of police work they had apparently decided to stay clear here. But Mrs Stanley’s house was now a beehive of activity with the preparations for the party and offered plenty of enticing angles and the added bonus of plenty of greenery to hide in. So pictures of them had appeared in various printed outlets repeatedly over the last weeks, Frederick Burn’s among the worst of them. This one was no exception.  
Of course he had caught them as they had said good bye. There was a lot Jack could have said against the photographer, but his timing was impeccable. The photo was just this side of decent, showing them as they had stood in front of Jack’s car, a moment just before a kiss, their lips were a breath a part and both had equally besotted looks on their faces. The heading underneath was just as suggestive and just harmless enough to be unassailable:  
“Love birds and busy bees: The Honourable Miss Fisher and her fiancé Det. Insp. Robinson have serious intentions, preparing for their engagement celebration on the weekend.“  
Jack let out a heartfelt sigh.  
“Well, the commissioner is certainly going to love this.“ he muttered.  
“He already called, Sir.“ Hugh confirmed. “I told him the picture was taken after your shift.“ he added, not meeting his superiors eyes.  
Jack couldn’t help the wave of sympathy for his young friend flooding over him.  
“Thank you, Collins.“ he said genuinely.  
Hugh’s face lit up like a Christmas tree for a second, before he tried to school his expression back to the professional stoicism of his superior he tried to emanate.  
“Not at all, Sir. It’s not right that Burn can go around getting people into trouble like that.“ he said grimly.  
Jack nodded. Hugh had his own history with Mr Burn, of course. He remembered the picture the photographer had taken of him and Dot last year that had yet again shaken the fragile truce between the lovers and their mothers, which at that point had only been renegotiated very recently. It didn't seem as if Hugh had forgiven Burn for that incident yet. Jack took another look at today’s picture.  
“Well Collins, in this instance maybe Mrs Stanley would like to press charges for trespass against Mr Burn.“  
His mouth twitched amused as Hugh’s eyes widened with hope.  
“The picture was clearly taken from within the premises of her property.“  
His constable threw another shy look at the paper.  
“It seems that way, Sir.“ he confirmed tentatively.  
“Well, bring the car ‘round, Constable. We’re due to head to Mrs Stanley's anyway.“

They had only just arrived and were headed to the house when a young man with lanky build and dark skin approached the Inspector.  
“Mrs B said you wanted a word, Inspector Robinson.“ he said.  
“Mr Owen I presume?“  
Jack took in the young man’s appearance for a moment. Judging from the tone of his skin and the indomitable shock of brown curls on his head, Jack assumed he had Aboriginal heritage. The state of his clothes, a little the worse for wear and intended for a slightly smaller person, suggested Mrs Stanley would not have been pleased to see him in her parlour, but he would likely never have the chance to get there.  
“This about Donny?“ Owen asked, confirming Jacks assumption about his identity.  
”It is.“ the Inspector acknowledged. “You and Mr Wardrop were friends?“  
Robin wiggled his head a little.  
“I guess you could say that.“ he agreed tentatively.  
“You spend a lot of time together.“ Jack pointed out a little surprised at the evasiveness of the man’s answer.  
“Yeah, that we did. Donny liked to have a good time and so do I. I guess that would have made us friends.“  
“What kind of a good time?“  
Robin raised one shoulder nonchalantly.  
“Nothing too bad, Inspector. But if you have a face like mine, you can’t be picky about where you take a drink with a mate. Sometimes you end up in interesting places.“  
He smiled innocently. “Donny sometimes came along for the ride.“  
Jack nodded. It wasn’t a surprising statement. It wasn’t unheard of for hotels to refuse service to what they deemed 'unsuitable clientele’, specifically the kind with the wrong skin colour. What was surprising though, was the openness with which Owen admitted to frequenting places of questionable legality instead. Jack knew several other police officers who would have arrested him on the spot for that. Being aboriginal and putting a toe out of line would have been enough. He wondered if he should feel honoured that Owen trusted him not to be like them, or if he should put that down as suspicious behaviour. It was difficult to tell when the suspects knew you by reputation, not just as an anonymous servant of the law. For the moment Jack decided to take note of it, just in case, but move on in spite of it. Between the, at this point, four murders in Mrs Stanley's house and being Phryne’s friend, lover and now fiancé, he was sure all the servants had an opinion about him. Apparently it was not the worst one.  
“Did Donny ever get into trouble with anyone, while he was having a good time?“ he asked.  
Robin shook his head. “Not on my watch he didn’t. Donny was a good kid, Inspector. He liked the idea of misbehaving and kicking over the traces, hanging out with the 'bad‘ crowd, but in his heart he was a nice little boy who wanted to do his mummy proud. He got a bit drunk once in a while and tried his luck at poker, once. When he lost two pounds he stopped and never tried again.“  
“What about cocaine? He ever tried that?“ Jack asked, observing the young man closely.  
Robin didn’t blink.  
“Donny tried everything once, if he could afford it.“ he said.  
“More than once maybe?“ Jack prompted, but the young man merely shrugged.  
“I wouldn’t know.“  
It didn’t seem like he had more to say on the matter so Jack moved on.  
“You were seen arguing with Mr Wardrop the day of his death. What about?“  
“Footy.“ the answer came quick as a shot.  
The inspector’s eyebrows rose both at the speed of the reply and the answer itself.  
“You got in a row over football?“ he assured himself.  
Robin frowned. “He’s a west man.“ he said as if that explained everything.  
Unfortunately Jack had been to enough football pitches in his life that it did.  
“And what team do you support Mr Owen?“ he asked just for the sake of completeness.  
“Collingwood.“  
Jack nodded understandingly.  
“And that was all you argued about? Nothing else?“ he confirmed again.  
Owen shook his head. “I don’t think we were close enough to argue about anything more important.“  
“He never talked to you about his engagement then?“ Jack assumed.  
“Only that it had happened.“ Robin shrugged. “Came as a bit of a surprise, what with Helen being all over him all the time. Never thought he’d be type to throw her over like that.“  
“You don’t know what made him change his mind?“  
“Not a clue. I reckoned old Ed was playing the dead dad card. He’s done it before. Donny could never say no to the old man. Maybe he was hoping to wiggle some money out of him, too.“  
“He had money trouble?“  
Robin shrugged again.  
“Seemed like it. He hadn’t had a decent job in a while and he was pretty skint the last couple of times we went out.“  
Jack filed that under useful information.  
“What about Mr Derrington, wasn’t he stepping out with Miss Paterson before?“  
Robin nodded. “Yeah, he was furious about it. But Donny wouldn’t budge. Those two idiots were puffing themselves up around each other like fighting cocks.“ He rolled his eyes.  
“But it was only words. Li wouldn’t have done anything.“  
Jack took that statement, but didn’t let on how believable he found it.  
“What about the girls.“ he continued.  
Robin shrugged some more. It seemed to be his standard reaction.  
“I never had a lot to do with Minnie. S’pose she was a little railroaded by the whole thing.“ he guessed. “I was sorry for Helen though. Thought she might go in the water the first couple o' days.“  
He sounded genuine and most of his statement coincided with what Jack had already heard from the other staff, so he was inclined to believe him here.  
“Do you have any idea who would have want to hurt Donny?“ he asked.  
Owen shook his head. “No clue. Like I said Donny was a nice bloke and he was careful when he was out and about. The only one had a reason to have grudge were Lionel and Helen, but they wouldn’t kill him, I don’t think. Li isn’t stupid enough and Helen was crazy about Donny.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Spada da lato, aka side sword, was a typical weapon in the 16th century, used until the 17th. It's stylistically a continuation of a medieval arming sword and a pre-form of a rapier (those two existed side by side, but a rapier was considered more of a weapon for civilians). It would have a blade of about 80 cm length and a total weight of ca 1 kg. Usually it would be used as a cut rather than a thrust weapon, but as with most words “stick 'em with the pointy end' generally works either way.


	7. A tedious brief scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MSND 5.1.56

Phryne returned to Wardlow just when the rest of her household got up from the breakfast table. Mac always insisted that Jack, and, if she was investigating the same case Phryne, too, showed up at the morgue first thing in the morning, so she could make her morning classes at the university afterwards.  
Jane had slept in today. She was still a little exhausted from her long journey and the unexpected turn her first day back had taken, so Phryne had already been gone by the time she had gotten up. She had been kept company by Dot, who started baking biscuits for afternoon tea, and the cabbies who had snuck in, in the hopes of a good cuppa and a nice breakfast, as they usually did. Phryne greeted everyone before she headed to the telephone to make a few arrangements and left instructions with Mr Butler on her way back to the kitchen. She had had an idea last night while listening to the wireless and was now eager to see what might come of it.

Cec was just about to place his cup in the sink and Bert had one foot already out the back door when Phryne called them back.  
“I need to have another word with you about the murder.“ she announced.  
“Mac found out Donny had a taste for cocaine.“ she told them, watching their reaction carefully.  
It was hardly necessary. Bert and Cec rather blatantly exchanged a look, that was half concern, half resignation.  
“We shoulda known.“ Cec muttered under his breath.  
“Yes indeed you should.“ Phryne agreed. “Spill the beans, boys!“ she ordered.  
“We didn’t know for sure, Miss.“ Cec apologised.  
“And we weren’t gonna rat anyone out to the coppers.“ Bert declared. “No offence.“ he added, with a side glance to Dot.  
Phryne rolled her eyes. At what point had Bert become more afraid of Dot than her, she wondered. And was it worth doing something about that?  
“I figured as much,” she told them, “but there’s no police here right now, only me. So? What do you know about Donny and his cocaine? Who did he get it from, and where did they get it from?“

It was a little harder to get to talk to the maids this morning than the day before, when the whole household had been at a standstill in the wake of the murder. Now it seemed Mrs Stanley had gathered her wits and demanded the same of her staff. There was a party to prepare for after all. Helen and Minnie were busy bustling about the house and Jack had to use all his constabulary authority to convince Mrs Bronfen, the housekeeper, to let them interrupt their work for further interviews. Only the threat of taking the girls in and question them at the station finally made her budge. Jack breathed a sigh of relieve, secretly wondering, if there would ever be a housekeeper employed by Mrs Stanley that wouldn’t give him trouble. Somehow he didn’t have much hope. He suspected it might be a condition of employment for this position.  
He first got hold of Helen Bonnard who was preparing the guest rooms while he was talking to her.

“Why didn’t you mention you had been in a romantic relationship with Mr Wardrop?“ he cut immediately to the chase.  
“Because it was over. He was engaged to Minnie and that was that.“ she replied dully.  
“He broke up with you?“  
Her face implied that that was the logical conclusion.  
“You can’t have been happy with that.“ he suggested.  
“‘Course I wasn’t happy with it.“ she snapped, “I loved Donny. I thought he loved me, too.“  
“And yet he left you to marry Miss Paterson.“ Jack noted.  
She shrugged, pressing her lips tightly together. It was plainly obvious she still had feelings for the lad, and even more so that she had been deeply hurt by him.  
“Did you know Donny was addicted to cocaine?“ he changed the line of questions.  
“I knew he took a sniff now and then.“  
“Do you know who supplied him?“  
Helen shook her head. “Not for certain.“  
“Any guess?“ he prompted.  
“I don’t wanna get anyone in trouble if I don’t know anything for certain.“ she refused gingerly.  
“I’m interested in who killed Mr Wardrop, everything else is secondary,“ he assured her, “but I need to have all the information.“  
A part of him cursed the fact that he hadn’t waited for Phryne. As a civilian she had better chances of getting people to talk in cases like that.  
“I really don’t know.“ she insisted.  
He couldn’t force her, so he could only nod and change the subject.  
“Did you know he had money problems?“ he asked.  
“He didn‘t have a job, of course he had money problems.“ came her sharp answer.  
Another thing about which he could only nod and take note of.  
“Where were you that night between ten and midnight?“ was the only question he had left for the moment.  
She thought carefully before answering.  
“I was in the kitchen until ten, I think, and then I had a puff out the back door, walked about a bit and then I went to bed, before half, I think.“  
Jack frowned lightly. The night Donny Wardrop had died it had been coming down in sheets.  
“You took a walk in the rain?“ he asked.  
“I stayed on the veranda.“ she replied promptly. “I just needed a bit of fresh air before bed and Mrs S doesn’t allow us smoking inside.“

His interview with Minnie Paterson was a little more productive, Jack thought. The girl confirmed Lionel Derrington’s story without hesitance.  
“We wanted to leave next week.“ she told him firmly, “I had no intention of marrying Donny and my father never understood. We wanted to move to Adelaide and marry as soon as I’m 21 next month.“  
“Did anyone know of your plans?“ he asked.  
“I only told Helen.“  
Minnie seemed a little unsure. “She was so heart broken when Donny broke up with her, I guess I wanted to make sure she knew it wasn’t my fault. And that I’d be out of her hair soon. Maybe if I was gone, Donny would go back to her. If that’s what she wanted.“  
This time Jack was glad Phryne wasn’t there to listen to this. He could just about imagine her opinion on going back to a man who’d jilted you to marry someone else, most likely for money. He didn’t comment on it. He had long ago decided it wasn’t his place to judge how other people conducted their private affairs, as long as they stayed within the bounds of the law. But his job demanded that he asked about them.  
“We found Mr Wardrop’s clothes in a drawer in your room.“  
He deliberately left the statement without of any direct question or insinuation, to see how she would fill that void. Her forehead furrowed in confusion.  
“Donny’s never been in my room.“ she stated.  
Then her eyes cleared. “You think I killed him? But if I did, wouldn’t it be very stupid of me to hide the clothes in my own room? And why would I have taken them off him at all?“  
All good questions Jack had to admit, to himself at least.  
“I’m not thinking anything for the moment, Miss Paterson. I would merely like to know why the clothes were in your room and how they got there.“  
“I don’t know. I didn't even know they were there.“  
She looked him squarely in the eye but he wasn’t willing to be convinced so quickly.  
“And then I would like to know why you lied about where you were last night and where you really where.“ he kept pushing. “We know you left your room and didn’t come back until late.“ he added for good measure.  
Minnie sighed deeply.  
“Mary?” she asked. “It was that wretched child, wasn’t it? Not enough that he keeps half the house up all night.“ she rolled her eyes.  
“You’re right, I left my room and I didn‘t come back. But I didn’t kill Donny. I couldn’t well tell you, since you’re going to marry Mrs Stanley’s niece, you’ll be telling her and she’d sack me for sure if she found out.“  
Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes in turn. This entanglement with the Stanely household was really getting annoying. He was used to suspects trying to predict his reaction and manipulate him accordingly, but Mrs Stanley’s servants had a running start to the usual lot and it kept catching him by surprise. He made sure to wear his most inexpressive face and not let anything show when Minnie begged.  
“Please don’t tell her. I was with Li, in the stables. All night. You can ask him.“  
“I will.“ he assured her.  
“But this is a murder investigation Miss Paterson.“ he warned her for good measure. “My personal relation to Mrs Stanley aside, if I find you withhold any more information loosing your position will be the least of your problems.“  
She nodded suitably intimidated. Satisfied with the effect of his lecture he continued a little more gently:  
“Did you know of Mr Wardrop’s financial difficulties?“  
“He’d asked to borrow a few bob from Dad a couple of times.“ she confirmed, “I thought it was because he didn't have work.“  
That seemed to be what everyone had assumed. It might have been the truth for all Jack knew, but he suspected Phryne had been right about Wardrop’s expensive habit.  
“Were you aware your fiancé regularly consumed cocaine?“ he picked up on that thought.  
Minnie’s eyes widened.  
“I had no idea. That explains a lot though.“ she stated.  
“Like what?“  
She tilted her head, looking for the right words.  
“Him being late all the time and the way he was... off. He wasn’t always as fidgety. And he was nicer, I suppose. He was really harsh to Helen, it didn’t seem like him. We grew up together, you know, and he was always a kind boy. But he grew really impatient and snappy when he left her. I did think, it didn’t seem like him at all.“

“Ah, Jack.“ Prudence Stanley bustled into the kitchen just when Minnie had left it. “How is your investigation going? Making progress, I hope.“  
Jack inclined his head in silent acquiescence.  
“The first guests will arrive tomorrow.“ she pointedly informed him. “I really hope we can have all this unpleasantness wrapped up until then.“  
“I’ll be doing my best, Mrs Stanley, but I can’t make any promises.“ he told her.  
She seemed to accept the answer, even if she wasn’t entirely happy with it. He had already cleared the crime scene yesterday, so she could have the room cleaned, although Jack suspected he at least would skip the room during the party.  
“Are you sure you don’t want to be consulted on the seating arrangements?“ she asked instead.  
“If I’m distracted by those, I’ll have less time to investigate the murder.“ he pointed out, trying to hide his amusement at her persistence with trying to get him wrapped into the planing.  
He vividly remembered the effort that went into the seating for his wedding. Not even Prudence Stanely would bring him to repeat that experience. She nodded vigorously.  
“Of course, Inspector.“  
It sounded almost gentle, not half as brisk as it would have sounded only six months ago, Jack noticed. She had recovered quite well from the numerous shocks of the last year, but the truth was that she had lost her son and had been around too many murderers, dealt with a financial crisis and her brother-in-law. All of this had obviously done quite a job on the seemingly indomitable matron. Jack suddenly saw much more similarities between her and her sister than he had ever thought possible.  
When he had met Margaret Fisher in London he had been struck by how little she seemed to have in common with her battle axe of a sister, but right now, as he was looking at a woman who had dealt with a lot of strife all too recently, the similarities were undeniable.  
“I’m sure the party will be a roaring success, Mrs Stanley.“ he told her as kindly as he could.  
“Probably all the better for me not meddling with it.“  
“Well,“ she raised her chin and gave him that determined look she shared with her niece and he had learned to fear, as she put herself back together, “it’s the least I can do for my niece.“  
For a moment there was almost an unspoken understanding between them. Whatever else would ever connect them or stand between them, they would always be united in their care and devotion to Phryne, the wish to do right by her and for the first time Jack understood that she would at least tolerate him as long as she could sense that in him. It only lasted a fraction of a second though.  
“Speaking of.“ Prudence seemed to recover from her moment of weakness rather quickly, “do you think you two could be a little more discrete with your displays of affection, at least in public?“ she chided  
“I appreciate you are very much in love, and I could hardly be happier for Phryne, but it cannot be good for your career to be constantly in the papers in some compromising situation.“  
“Ah,“ Jack nodded slightly, “I see you have seen the Globe.“ he guessed.  
“Indeed I have.“ she bristled.  
Again Jack had to fight to keep any amusement from his face.  
“I thought you would,“ he admitted, “and I was actually wondering if you would want to press charges against Mr Burns for trespassing.“  
“And what good would that do?“ she asked sharply.  
Clearly she didn't think the photographer was the problem.  
It would give my Constable the satisfaction to arrest that weasel, Jack thought, but kept those thoughts to himself.  
“It could serve him as a warning and could in the future be used in case the need for a restraining order should arise.“  
She huffed a little but seemed to consider the possibility.  
“Should you decide to file a complaint, I’m sure Constable Collins will be happy to help you.“ Jack told her.


	8. Very tragical mirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MSND 5.1. 57

“It’s not the worst picture he’s ever taken of us.“ Phryne pointed out with a look a the offending photograph.  
She actually quite liked it, even if they both looked like love sick fools on it. But it was better than the one from the day before that had nothing more exiting than Jack helping her out of the car. Which he often did and she didn‘t mind it, but for some reason she hadn’t liked the image one bit.  
“Nothing on the first one of course.“ she added with a wicked grin.  
“That one I almost wanted to frame.“  
She took a bite out of her rather lovely Quiche Lorraine.

She had managed to get to her aunt‘s house just in time to whisk Jack away for a late lunch, which they took at a small but exquisite French café in St Kilda. Phryne did occasionally feel a little guilty about abandoning her old friend Anatole, but the memories that haunted Café Repliqué were nothing she wanted to subject either Jack or herself to.  
Jack made a sound that was neither clearly consenting nor depreciative, but his mouth was full. Phryne had been right about his flat being near empty at this point, and food had been one of the first things he hadn’t bothered keeping around. Therefore he hadn’t had a proper dinner last night, other than the sandwiches he had gotten from Aunt Prudence, and in absence of Mr Butler’s drop scones and toast, his breakfast had consisted of several biscuits from his no-longer-so-secret stash and a thin cup of tea at the morgue. As it turned out coroners made even worse tea than constables. So he was making up for missed meals now, a sight that put a affectionate grin on his partners face. His fiancée, he reminded himself, trying to ignore the warm feeling spreading in his chest at the thought.  
“I do hope I will get a veto right when it comes to the decoration of the house I’ll be living in.“ he said once his mouth was empty again.  
“I wouldn’t count on it, Jack.“ She gave him a wicked smile.  
“Now tell me, what have you found out this morning, other than the shocking revelation that Aunt P disapproves of kissing in public.“ she prompted.  
Jack rolled his eyes, but gave her a summary of the interviews he had conducted in her absence.  
“Minnie’s right, you know.“ Phryne said thoughtfully. “It’d be stupid to hide the clothes in her own room if she had done it. It’s much more likely the murderer put them there, either to redirect the blame or to just be rid of them.“  
“Could be a double bluff. I’m still not trusting her alibi.“ he said while his mouth was unoccupied for a moment, “Derrington would say anything to protect her and they could have conspired to kill Wardrop.“  
“It’s not the best time to start over in a new city, especially since both have a more or less secure position here.“ Phryne agreed, “But it didn't seem like a premeditated crime to me, killing him with a sword that happened to be hanging around.”  
“They all work at your aunt's, so they all knew it was there. It could have been planed.” he pointed out.  
She tilted her head considering his words.  
“That still doesn't explain the missing clothes.” she insisted.  
Jack shrugged. He had to admit that part didn't make sense to him either.  
“Could just be what Mac said, a reaction to the cocaine.” he offered.  
Phryne slowly chewed on her food. She was clearly not happy with that explanation, but couldn't come up with a better one at the moment.  
“Do you believe Helen’s story?“ she asked.  
Jack swallowed another bite.  
“It is possible, Joan said she was asleep before ten. I just can’t imagine she would have stayed outside for long. Even if she stayed out of the rain it was still freezing that night. And no one was in the kitchen after half past nine, according to the statements Collins took from the cook and the housekeeper, so there is no telling if she ever really went outside.“  
“So our three main suspects don’t have alibis.“ Phryne summed up. “Everyone had access to the sword in the billiard room and they all had a motive of sorts.“  
Jack hummed in agreement.  
“Thwarted love.“ he said thoughtfully, “And what did you find out this morning, Miss Fisher?“ he inquired, “Anything useful from the red raggers?“  
Her face lit up in an excited beam.  
“Have they ever disappointed, Inspector?“ she asked with a playful smile.  
The tilt of his head indicated that she probably wouldn’t like an honest answer. She ignored him and lunged into the report of her findings instead:  
“It seems young Master Robin was the one supplying Donny with cocaine.“ she told him. “And according to Bert and Cec cocaine isn’t the only thing that clever young man provides for the neighbourhood, although it seems to be his main source of income. But from decent quality hashish, to bootleg, to betting tips, whatever you want Mr Owen can procure apparently. But I’m not supposed to tell you that.“ she added with a wink.  
“Luckily for you I’m not in the habit of divulging my sources.“ Jack replied, giving her one of his infinitesimal smiles you could only really see if you knew it was there.  
“And luckily for Mr Owen I’m only interested in what he sold to Donny Wardrop.“  
The smile disappeared. “But I think it might be a better idea to ask him about that again at the station.“

“I didn’t lie, when I said, Donny tried everything once.“ Robin said petulantly.  
He was sitting at the interview table, arms crossed in front of his chest, jaw set determinedly as he was facing the two detectives. They had returned to the Stanley Estate after finishing their lunch and taken him with them to City South.  
“Only with the coke, once was all it took for him. Especially after he lost his job, he came back for it all the time.“  
“Costly habit, in my experience.“ Phryne remarked.  
Robin gave her a measuring look.  
“You could say that.“ he conceded. “It was a problem for Donny. He was broke, but he was also addicted.“  
He turned to Jack. “That’s what we argued about. He wanted more, but he couldn’t pay. He got upset. Started yelling and threatened to find it somewhere else. I told him good luck.“ he shrugged, “There ain’t no one out there who’d give him a whiff without cash up front.“  
“Is that the way you’re arrangement worked?“ Phryne asked sounding genuinely interested. “He paid you up front?“  
Owen turned his eyes back to her.  
“Works the same as buying eggs in a shop Miss.“ he told her. “You give me the money, you get whatever it is you’re paying for. But I never give anything out on credit. Not worth the risk.“  
“Were other people in my aunt‘s house paying you for things Robin?“ Phryne asked.  
The young man shrugged.  
“Not many. Helen had a go sometimes.“  
The two detectives exchanged a glance. So much for 'not certain'. But Robin continued without noticing the silent exchange:  
“Mrs G had me hock her good earrings, Mary’s asked about sleeping pills once. Changed her mind though. Ed once paid me a pound to hand him a letter that wasn't for him. You know, ‘cause I take in the mail and the paper in the mornings. Thought it was odd, but if he wants to give me money I ain't gonna tell him no.“  
“What kind of a letter? Who was it for?“ Phryne leaned in intrigued.  
„A fancy one. From a solicitor in Warnambool. The name on the letter was Donny's.“  
“Do you know what it was about?“ Miss Fisher inquired.  
She tried not to show her excitement at the information, but Jack could feel her buzz at this new possible lead. Robin shook his head.  
“Not a clue. He just took it away and never mentioned it again.“  
“Did you tell Donny about it?“  
He shook his head.  
“No, I reckoned Ed would have my head if I did. Ed always cared for Donny, so I didn’t worry, even though it was a bit strange. And then I didn’t think about it no more.“  
Jack nodded to himself. It made sense. Everyone had told them that Ed had treated Donny like a son, which would have led anyone to believe he’d never do anything to harm the boy. All the more suspicious he paid to keep that letter from him.

“He doesn’t have a motive for killing Donny, he can’t make money off of him if he’s dead.“ Phryne pointed out.  
The two detectives were heading from the interview room, where they had left Owen, to Jack’s office.  
“No, and if I test it he probably has an alibi of ten men swearing he was peacefully hustling them at poker somewhere at the other end of town.“ Jack agreed wryly.  
In that moment Hugh arrived at the corridor, just when Jack put his hand on the doorknob to his office.  
“Mr Everett’s waiting in your office, Sir.“ Constable Collins forewarned him just in time.  
“I thought he said to call him?“ Jack asked a little irritated.  
It was still the afternoon after all, he hadn’t forgotten to call yet.  
Hugh shrugged. “Seems he changed his mind. Oh, and here is the file you requested on Mr Owen.“  
He handed Jack a manila file.  
“Thank you, Collins.“  
Jack flipped it open and scanned through. His eyes widened a fraction but he didn't let on what had surprised him. He wordlessly handed the file to Phryne and finally opened the door.

Oliver Everett was one of the prosecutes Jack often worked with and quite successfully. He was small, jovial man, the shape of a football. Despite his stature he was surprisingly nimble on his feet, which, combined with his devastating effect on defendants in a cross examination, had earned him the nickname 'the cannonball‘ among colleges and opponents alike. He didn’t normally come by Jack’s office though, unless he was already in the area, but Jack never minded when he did. Everett was never intrusive and he hardly ever tried to pressure an investigation, which could not be said for all prosecutes. The two men were also united in a significant lack of desire for career advancement, being perfectly content doing exactly the work they did.  
When the detectives entered the office, he got to his feet with a grace and speed that shouldn’t have been possible for a man his size and immediately took Phryne’s hand.  
“Miss Fisher,“ he exclaimed, bending lightly over her hand, “how lovely to see you. You’re well, I hope.“  
Phryne smiled. She liked Everett, he was a smart attorney and one of the few people who had never shown any misgivings about her involvement in Jack’s cases. He even seemed to relish it. They had met early on after her return to Melbourne, when she had to testify against Lydia Andrews and he had been very pleased with her performance in court in that case and a number of others since.  
They exchanged the usual pleasantries before Everett came to the reason of his visit.  
“I really just wanted to let you know we got a court date for Barnes next week and wanted to ask when you have time to prepare your statement.“ he told Jack.  
“I’m not sure.“ the Inspector had to admit. “We’re in the middle of a case right now.“  
His face lit up a little with an idea  
“Actually you might be able to help.“  
Everett raised an eyebrow. “Me? How?“  
“Well, it’s a murder case, but we’ve got connections to the cocaine ring operating out of Little Lon. We have a witness here, but I doubt he’s willing to talk.“  
Everett’s eyes had widened during Jack’s summary of the situation.  
“You’re thinking of some kind of cooperation deal?“ he asked.  
Jack nodded. The small man’s face crunched up as the wheels in his head visibly started turning.  
“What exactly do you have on that guy?“ he asked.  
“He’s admitted to selling cocaine to our murder victim and we can prove he’s been running errands in and out of Little Lonsdale Street.“  
Everett frowned. “Not a lot, Jack.“ he said critically.  
“So far it’s enough to charge him for dealing and we’re searching his domicile as we speak.“ the Inspector stated.  
He handed the prosecutor Owen’s file, after he pried it from Phryne’s hands. Everett hummed thoughtfully.  
“Aboriginal, that might help. He won’t have it easy in a court.“ he contemplated with a detachment that made Jack’s stomach turn. Oliver Everett was a nice man, but sometimes he was repulsively pragmatic in his work.  
“It’s not much and I’ll have to run it by Rodgers, but I think I can work with that, all the better if your guys find anything at his place.“  
The Solicitor took a look at his watch. “The chief won’t be in any more. Mind if we postpone this until tomorrow? You can keep him over night, I suppose?“  
“Of course“. Jack nodded, secretly relieved he didn’t have to sit here and wait until the prosecutor’s office had sorted out all the details.  
Malcom Rodgers, the senior public prosecutor, was much less on the same wavelength with Jack as Everett was, and convincing him to do something unconventional could take time. Everett smiled pleased.  
“Very good. I’ll be back tomorrow around eleven then.“ he declared “And we can all get home on time, for a change.“ he added with a wink.  
“Miss Fisher,“ he shook her hand again, “always a pleasure. I can honestly say the wife and I are truly looking forward to the celebration on the weekend.“  
“And we look forward to seeing you there.“ she replied genuinely. “How is Tilly? Aunt Prudence mentioned some upset last week?“  
Everett waved his hand dismissively.  
“Oh, the usual tiff with one of her charity thingys. You’re aunt can probably tell you more about it than me. She wouldn’t be happy without them.“  
He smiled and took his hat. “Jack.“  
With that final goodbye he left the office.  
“He is right,“ Phryne stated. “It is almost time to go home.“  
Jack nodded. “I still need to finish up here though.“ he pointed out.  
She rolled her eyes.  
“Don’t be late.“ she ordered. “I have plans for you tonight.“  
He tilted his head teasingly. “Do you now?“  
She meet his eyes with an equal twinkle in hers.  
“Yes. And I’m not accepting any excuses this time.“

It really wasn’t late, when Jack made it into Phryne’s parlour. Wrapping up today’s paperwork had only taken him about an hour, so in fact he was early for dinner. To his disappointment there was no Miss Fisher waiting in the parlour, only Jane curled up in the window seat over a book. She looked up and greeted him as he entered, but was immediately absorbed again, forehead in deep furrows. Jack didn’t mind, he was sympathetic to the draw of a good book. So he took a seat in one of the chairs and picked up one himself. It was one of Phryne’s books he had started up a couple of days ago when he had been waiting for her to come back from her aunt’s with the last specifications for the menu for the party. That damned engagement party really had taken over their lives, the thought.  
Within a few minutes of reading Jack noticed that Jane was watching him. Not extensively, but she would sneak a peak over the edge of her book ever couple of minutes. She seemed to want to talk to him, but apparently wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. After a few more times he decided to try and help her out.  
„Is there something I can do for you, Jane?“ he asked.  
For a moment she looked a bit startled, but then she stopped the pretence of reading and squarely looked at him.  
"Miss Phryne says you know German." she asked tentatively.  
Jack nodded carefully, raising an eyebrow in question. Not quite what he had expected.  
"You see, I started learning it and I like a lot of German writers, but I’m not very good yet." she indicated the book in her lap.  
He could see she wasn’t very far along and now noticed that she had a dictionary and a notepad at hand, as well. He almost smiled at how well organised she was.  
"Like here." She pointed to a specific word. "Is he really saying he wants to look at things in a spicy manner?"  
Jack’s jaw clenched in an attempt to suppress a bark of laughter, but he managed to remain serious and he held out his hand for the book.  
"Where?"  
"Here"  
Jane showed him the passage. "‚Wenn ich Geld hätte...‘"  
Jack nodded, scanning the sentence. He spotted the problem immediately.  
"‚Wenn ich Geld hätte, würde ich gerne mal hinfahren und mir alles scharf ansehen.‘ In this context ‚scharf‘ would mean keenly or minutely. He’s saying if he had money, he’d like to go there and have a good look around."  
"Oh." Jane nodded. "That makes more sense."  
She rolled her eyes. "They don’t have enough words in that language. Everything has about fifty different meanings." she groaned.  
Jack couldn’t hide a grin. He could absolutely sympathise with the problem.  
"What made you think spicy rather than sharp?" he asked curiously after a moment.  
"Because they were talking about cooking earlier." was her reply, as if it was perfectly obvious.  
She retrieved the book.  
"It’ll take ages until I can read anything more than children’s books." she sighed.  
"I think you’re doing amazingly well, considering you only started learning it a couple of months ago." Jack pointed out.  
Suddenly her face lit up.  
"Could you teach me?" she asked excitedly.  
"Er," Jack stuttered, taken completely by surprise. "I don’t know..."  
It seemed like a terrible responsibility. Jack had never taught anyone anything, other than Hugh how to be a policeman, and that was mostly leading by example and occasionally tipping the lad in the right direction. Additionally, it had been ages since he had had anything resembling formal training in German and no idea how to help someone learn it. But then a thought struck him.  
"Your French is pretty good now, is it?" he asked. "Mine isn’t, so maybe we could make some sort of trade. I help you with your German and you help me with my French." he suggested.  
And I might be able to pick up some tricks about teaching from you, he added mentally. Her experience on the field was much more recent after all. Jane considered this and then grinned widely.  
"You got yourself a deal, Inspector." she stated, holding out he hand.  
Jack refrained from rolling his eyes as he took it.  
"You should really start calling me Jack." he offered.  
Jane looked a little uncomfortable.  
"That’d be really weird." she noted. "I don’t even call Miss Phryne only by her first name."  
"An oversight on my part that needs to be rectified immediately." the woman in question decreed from the door, where she had been leaning and watching the two people who were dearest to her in the world being utterly adorable together.  
"How long have you been standing there?" Jack wanted to know.  
"Long enough." she replied throwing him a teasing look before she turned back to Jane.  
"And I agree with Jack. It’s high time we send formality well and truly out the window. We’re a family. We should all call each other by our given names."  
Jane smiled a little shyly at her.  
"If you’re sure." she said quietly, looking a little overwhelmed.  
It was really a regular thing around Miss Phryne and her family here, but it never seized to catch her by surprise just how happy she was. Being away for so long had almost made her forget that her foster mother would casually say or do things that could make everyone around her feel like they could explode with happiness.  
"I absolutely am." Phryne insisted.  
"And so am I." Jack added with a warm smile.  
He, too, felt a lump in his throat at Phryne’s confident declaration of their family. Jane’s smile widened and she looked at him.  
"Then, I’m sure this will be fun. Jack."  
She grinned happily at the sound of his name in her voice and he couldn’t help grinning back.  
"Well, now that that’s settled," Phryne said, "Mr Butler is finished with dinner, if you’re ready."  
A suggestion that was met with unbridled enthusiasm by both.

Dinner was a far more relaxed affair than it had seemed possible just a day ago, as Jack and Jane kept talking about books and learning languages. Jack hadn’t heard of the author she was reading, apparently a young, up and coming writer, and he quizzed her about the way she had been taught German so far and how much she already knew and Jane was only too happy to tell him all he wanted to know and more. Phryne watched them with glee, occasionally throwing in a comment or a suggestion.  
After dinner Phryne turned to her ward.  
"Are you sure you will be alright for the night?" she asked.  
Jane rolled her eyes.  
"I’ve been alone on a boat full of strangers for two months, I’ll be fine. Mr Butler is still here."  
Jack, who had overheard the exchange from the parlour door, raised an eyebrow.  
"Going somewhere?" he asked.  
"Why yes, Jack." she replied with a bright smile he knew all too well hid the kind of plan that had the potential of causing him endless grief or unfathomable joy. Which one could often only be determined in hindsight.  
"I’m having the bedroom redecorated." she explained, the smile not wavering for a second.  
"Jane pointed out a few details that needed adjusting, so I decided to have it done before you move in. That means of course," here her smile widened to an almost feral grin, "that my bedroom is unusable for the time being."  
Jack couldn’t help the smile tugging at his mouth as he could start to see where she was going with this.  
"Is it now? Whatever will you do?"  
"Well, I was hoping that you might offer your poor, uprooted fiancée refuge, Inspector." she said fluttering her eyelashes playfully at him.  
He nodded slowly, as if he had to contemplate the issue.  
"What kind of man would I be, to send a woman with no place to go from my door?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Occasionally I get the feeling like Phryne and Jack will eventually run out of restaurants to go to, somehow I can't imagine them eating a lot of Chinese or Italian any more. 
> 
> I need to make it clear that I have absolutely no idea about how the Australian criminal justice system works or has worked in 1930 (surprisingly, gathering information on that is a little difficult from half a planet and almost a century away). So all the legal stuff I made up and I'm fully aware that the idea of a cooperation deal might be slightly anachronistic, given that witness protection is a much more modern concept. 
> 
> Jane is reading Emil and the Detectives by Erich Kästner (quote from: Kästner, Erich. 1998 [1929]. Emil und die Detektive. Zurich. Atrium Verlag. p. 11; I'm aware it's probably unnecessary to cite it so extensively, but there has been a lot talk about copyright laws recently where I live, so I'd rather be safe than sorry).  
> The novel was Kästner's first major success, published in German in 1929 and was the only of his books written before 1945 that wasn't banned under the NS regime.  
> The place the narrator would like to have a good look around is incidentally Australia.


	9. A monstrous little voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MSND 1.2.46

“So what was this deal you were proposing to Oliver Everett about Mr Owen?“ Phryne asked as soon as she closed the car door.  
A tiny smirk played on the edges of Jack’s mouth.  
“Did you wait all the way through dinner to ask about this?“ he inquired, clearly amused.  
“I’ve been thinking,“ she admitted.  
He had to bite his tongue, but didn't comment on that opener. It would have been too easy.  
“That maybe we should put a rule in place not to talk about work in front of Jane. At least not all the time.” she explained, “Not that I think she couldn‘t handle it, she knows what the world is like. But maybe she could do without being reminded all the time.“  
Jack nodded. Of course she would consider Jane’s well-being in all of it.  
“I think that’s a very good idea.“ he agreed, but couldn’t help himself teasing her just a little: “Although I’m not sure how you’ll ever keep it up.“  
She gave him a withering look that send shivers through him for more than one reason.  
“Eyes front, Phryne, please.“  
She rolled her eyes at him and cut a corner sharply enough for him to be pressed into the door.  
“Robin Owen?“ she reminded him in a tone that didn’t suffer opposition.  
“After your red-raggers confirmed Owen as the dealer, I had Hugh do a bit if investigating. You've seen his file, Mr Owen is not only a gofer for your aunt. He is also running errands around the wrong end of Little Lonsdale, mostly going between there and South Yarra.“  
Phryne raised an eyebrow. She remembered that, but hadn't been able to make heads or tails of it before. Being given the framework of a new cocaine ring, however, the connection was clear.  
“Deliveries?“ she asked pointedly.  
Jack nodded. “Most likely. Unfortunately arresting Lydia Andrews dampened the illegal cocaine business in this city only for about a month.“  
“Where there’s a demand someone will supply.“ she commented archily. “How much does the police know about the new king of snow, if there is such a person?“  
“Not much.“ Jack had to admit. “There seems to have been a bit of a tussle for dominance during the first months, but it seems to have settled now.“  
“Someone won.“ Phryne concluded.  
“That’s what we think.“ he agreed. “Unfortunately we have no idea who or how they’re operating. Only that they’re very efficient and surprisingly careful. We haven’t got anything on them, other than vague suspicions. They’re apparently very well organised in their operations and there haven’t been many bodies in back alleys or floating in the Yarra that we could associate with the cocaine trade. There are a few people of interest that we assume are involved, Robin Owen among them, but we could never prove anything. No one was ever caught red handed so far.”  
“So you don’t think Donny Wardrop is somehow connected?“ she asked.  
“I don’t know yet. Probably not. Stabbing a man with a sword is a little dramatic for an organisation that has gone through a lot of effort to stay under the radar. But it could get us a break in that case. We never had any of their dealers in custody, they’ve been too bloody careful so far. So if we can get Owen to talk...“  
“You could get to the people behind the operation.“  
He nodded. “That's what I'm hoping. At least he can probably point us towards someone who knows more.”  
She considered what he had told her.  
“Oliver is right“ she finally said. “You don’t have an awful lot to go on.“  
He tilted his head in agreement.  
“It’s more than nothing, which we had yesterday.“ he indicated.  
“Did the search of Robin’s home come up with anything?“  
“No. But he lives with his mother and three of his siblings in a shed in Collingwood. I would have been surprised, if he’d hid anything there.“  
“He probably has some other secret hiding place.“ Phryne pointed out.  
Jack nodded. “I reminded Hugh of our friend Paddy and he’s assured me they checked the surrounding stables and pipes and whatever nooks and crannies they could find.“  
She gave him a look.  
“That’s very thorough of you, but Robin isn’t a child any more.“  
He had to agree with her there, but her mind had already moved on before he could formulate a reply.  
“If you say ‚three of his siblings‘, how many does he have?“ she asked.  
Jack smiled “Very good, Miss Fisher. He has five. His eldest sister lives two blocks down the street with her husband and his older brother lives in a boarding house in Fitzroy. Yes, that seems like a much more likely hiding place,“ he admitted, seeing the gleam in her eyes, “but there is no way I’ll get a warrant for it. Besides it seems our Mr Owen is the bad egg in the family, whereas his brother choose the righteous path: He’s a clerk in the Crown Prosecutor’s office.“  
Phryne let out a surprised whistle.  
“Talking about polar opposites.“ she commented. “It’ll be hard for the poor man, having his brother a key witness in such a big case.“  
Jack hummed in agreement.

The Hispano came to a screeching halt in front of the block of flats that Jack still technically lived in.  
“Is there any chance to convince you to focus on the murder and leave the drug lords to the police?“ he asked as he was opening the door for her.  
“But I did such good work last time.“ she replied lightly.  
“You also nearly got yourself killed and blew up half the town.“ he pointed out.  
“Details.“ she shrugged, placing her coat and hat on a cardboard box since the coat rack had already been given to the Collinses. She had been right, the bed might still be there, but half of Jack’s furniture had already been sold or given away and most other things were either packed up or moved to be ready to be transported to Wardlow.  
“At least there don’t seem to be any Turkish bathhouses involved this time.“ Jack stated dryly. “I’m not sure Melbourne could withstand another fire like that.“  
Phryne gave him a light slap on the arm.  
“You know“ she said innocently “I do believe that was the first time you saw me naked.“  
“I am fully aware of that fact.“ he gave her a pointed look. “I saw quite a lot more than I had bargained for, considering it was only the third time I saw you at all.“  
“Fifth.“ she corrected him teasingly.  
He rolled his eyes at her nitpicking.  
“It was also the first time I had to come to your rescue because you recklessly went in head over heals without thinking about the consequences.“ he decided to tease her right back.  
“I wasn’t reckless at all, Jack,“ she protested, “after all I did send Bert and Dot to get you.“  
He couldn’t argue with that, even if he was absolutely certain she had not planed on being locked in a steam room.  
“Let’s just hope for no more Turkish bath palaces, alright?“ he offered.  
She smiled acquiescently.  
“You know, I’ve always been quite partial to them. I would love to take you one day.“ she admitted, looking up to him from under her eyelashes.  
“And why exactly should I go to a public place to be naked with you, where I can’t do a thing about it, when I can have you naked right here, where I can do whatever I want with you?“ he asked with a heated glint in his eyes and a teasing smile on his lips.  
She crooked her head as if to consider it.  
“That is a very good question Jack. One that beggars another: Why aren't you naked?“

"What are you really doing to your bedroom?" he asked into her hair, as she settled her head on his chest.  
"What makes you think I haven't just made something up to have you, while sparing Jane?" she asked cheekily.  
"Because you always lie as little as possible." he replied, his voice slightly muffled.  
She huffed, pretending to be annoyed at being caught. In truth she was rather pleased at how well he knew her. It always thrilled her, in a way that was almost obscene, when he let it show that he remembered the things she had said to him in the earlier days of their partnership.  
"Jane pointed out that sound carries quite strongly in the house." she replied honestly.  
He'd have to find out eventually, better to do it when he didn't have enough energy to panic properly. It took a moment before Jack put one and one together and she could feel him tense up.  
"Oh."  
"Yes, she was a little concerned about that, as well.“ Phryne told him lightly, refusing to let him worry about it too much.  
„I was considering what to do about it and then I remembered the studios at 3JH were completely soundproof. So I asked an architect that I know. She said we can't have it entirely soundproof, which I guess is probably better anyway, but the room can be made a little more sound absorbing."  
„You mean, all this time...“ Jack’s voice sounded hoarse now.  
„It‘s a new discovery, so I don‘t know exactly who heard what and when. But given that Mr Butler was the only one in the house most times, I doubt I‘ll ever find out.“ she explained as factually as she possibly could.  
“It seemed like a worthy investment in any case. The builder said it would take about two weeks, so it should be done by the time you move in. Until then we can stay here and on the weekend we’ll be staying at Aunt P’s anyway. And should things take longer, we can still sleep in one of the guest rooms in the meantime. We'll just have to try and be quiet.“  
She grinned into his chest.  
To her surprise the next sound she heard from Jack was a low chuckle.  
„I must confess, I thought you’d be more put out about it.“ she said.  
„I am. A bit.“ he admitted. „But I also can’t help wondering how much of his marital bliss Hugh owes to your thin walls.“  
She could feel him grin against her head.  
„Jack Robinson! I can’t believe you’re thinking about Dot and Hugh while you’re in bed with me.“ she exclaimed with mock outrage. „How positively indecent of you.“  
His grin widened.  
„I don’t know that I have ever done anything that could be considered decent while in bed with you, Phryne.“ he pointed out.  
„And you wouldn’t have it any other way, Jack.“ she replied and kissed him in a decidedly indecent manner.  
„No, I wouldn’t.“ he agreed pulling her on top of him.

On waking up Jack was rather glad to see Phryne next to him, squishing up her face at the noise of his alarm clock. He had done his best to properly tire her out last night. It had occurred to him in the fuzzy minutes before officially waking up, that she might want to go and break into the apartment of Robin Owen’s brother and he was glad to see she hadn't.  
“If you think this thing will ever make it into my house, Jack Robinson...“ she muttered grumpily.  
“I’ll bring it, so you can ceremoniously take a hammer to it if you want.“ he promised and kissed her lightly on the cheek as he got up. The alarm was a sound he had gotten used to over the years, but he wouldn't pretend like he didn't prefer Mr Butler's polite knock in the mornings.  
Another thing he was unspeakably grateful for in regards to Mr Butler, was that the servant had taken it upon himself to prepare a basket with the essentials for a decent breakfast. He seemed to have anticipated that Jack didn’t have anything left in his flat. He found a couple of eggs, bacon, toast, butter and a box of tea in the basket, next to two glasses of different jams, a stack of hash brown patties, neatly wrapped in a napkin, and even a bottle of milk and a small package of sugar. Once again Jack could not be thankful enough for the existence of one Tobias Butler as he started to prepare breakfast.  
“It’s way too early to be getting up.“ Phryne’s peevish voice came from the kitchen door a few minutes later.  
He couldn’t wholeheartedly disagree. She wasn’t the only who had been tired out last night. He smirked quietly. The sacrifices a man had to make sometimes.  
“You didn’t have to get up.“ he said gently.  
“You’re wretched clock had a different opinion.“ she grumbled and padded towards him, only to reach for his toast. He pulled it deftly out of reach and pushed the second plate her direction with his other hand. She sat down with a pout.  
“I have to check in with the builders anyway. And Jane wanted to visit a school friend I have to take her to.“ she declared haughtily while spreading butter on her own slice of toast.  
Jack nodded and poured her a coup of tea.  
“When will you be at the station?“ he asked, simply assuming she would show up eventually.  
“I’m not sure. In time for lunch probably. What are you planing on doing today?“ she asked taking a bite from her toast.  
“Well, Everett is coming at eleven to see what he can do with Owen, so I have to be there then. I still haven’t cleared out all the paperwork on the interviews and I’ve been thinking about hauling in Ed Paterson.“  
“About that letter?“ she inquired.  
He nodded.  
„I’m curious about that one.“ she admitted „Let’s do that after Oliver is gone and I’ll bring lunch so we can eat when we go over whatever he tells us?“  
There was a strangely contented smile on her face he couldn’t quite place, but he returned it none the less.  
„Sounds enticing.“


	10. Cause to curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MSND 3.2.46
> 
> Sorry, if there's more mistakes in this chapter than usual. Spell check is acting up (or rather not acting at all). I'll try and fix it by tomorrow, but I didn't want to delay posting.

The morning passed quicker than Jack had anticipated. He hadn’t thought he’d have quite that much paperwork to catch up with. He took great care not to let it pile up since he had a reason to finish on time again. Yet that stuff always seemed to multiply over night. The DI from City Central who was in charge of the cocaine investigation had requested the information he had gathered, or would hopefully gather from Owen, which meant he had to go through half of yesterdays paperwork and do another replicate to be send to Russel street, as Everett had already taken the hand out copy.  
Before he knew it, it was half past ten and he decided to take a break before dealing with the imminent interview. He got himself a new cup of thin tea and took a step outside the station to air out his head. It didn’t rain at the moment, but it was cold and windy and Jack clung to his cup to keep warm. His thoughts drifted back to breakfast and that unusual little look on Phryne’s face. He had thoroughly enjoyed the way they had started the day, having breakfast together, talking about the day ahead, making plans for lunch. It wasn’t something he had ever experienced that way. He had never talked about work with Rosie, if he could help it, and their days had never overlapped in a way that would have made planing together even a possibility. With Phryne on the other hand it never happened, simply because she didn’t usually plan, and if she did, she prefered to surprise him. Apart from that it happened rarely enought that they had breakfast together, because she was able to sleep in, while he had to get up for work, and if he didn’t they often didn’t get up in time for breakfast at all. Yet she hadn’t seemed to mind, apart from the early hour. And he found himself silently hoping there would be more mornings like this in the future. He considered his moving in might be delayed, now that she had people tearing out the walls in her bedroom. Two weeks sounded like a rather tight schedule for what she had planed. But then again, considering what they were redecorating for, as he had decided to call it to himself, he would gladly wait a little longer. He felt he and Jane had reached an understanding that he would loath to risk. He was actually looking forward to spending more time with her, even though he had no illusions as to his practical role in Jane’s life. But if he was to be primarily her German teacher and her French student, he could live with that. And yet, when Phryne had called them a family last night, the idea had made him about as happy as he had been the first time she had told him she loved him. After nearly ten years of feeling at sea, the pieces of his life seemed to slowly fall into place, and even if they formed a pattern he would have never expected in a million years, he found he couldn’t have imagined a more beautiful one.

He was forced from his musings after a few minutes, when even the hot brew in his hands couldn’t keep the cold at bay anymore. and he had to returned inside or catch frostbite. When he got back to his office Everett was already there, scanning the file that contained his interview with Robin Owen. He seemed strangely aggrivated.  
“I’m having a serious problem here, Jack.“ he said without as much as a polite greeting.  
Jack frowned  
“What’s the matter?“  
“You said you had a confession.“ the prosecuters stated accusatory.  
The furrow in Jack’s brow deepened.  
“Yes?“  
“That’s not in here though.“ Everett pointed at the notes from the interview. “I’ve been going through it all night: He never actually admits to selling Wardop the stuff. He says Donny was an addict and couldn’t pay for it. He says he came back for more, but never specifies that he came back to him for it.“  
Jack re-read the conversation.  
“What about here?“ he pointed near the end of the interview, “He said he’d sell...“  
“Whatever it is you want.“ Everett finished the sentence, “His council will argue he was talking about silk patters or exotic champaign. There is nothing in here, Jack.“ he threw the file back on the desk with disgust.  
“Come on Everett, you know that that’s a confession. It’s clear what he meant.“ Jack defended himself.  
“It doesn’t matter what he meant, Jack. It won’t hold up. Any half decent solicitor will blow more holes in this confession than a Hotchkiss 1 in a practice target and in half the time.“ Everett blustered. “Damnit Jack, I’d expect this kind of shoddy work from a wet constable, not from a seasoned officer like you.“

Jack’s teeth were grinding. He could see how Everett could be right and it was equally embarassing as it was humiliating. In his head he went through the interview again. He had left the lead to Phryne mostly. Maybe he should have weighed in more, push Owen further. But it had seemed like she was getting the answers that they needed, and at the time he hadn’t thought about trying to get to the cocaine dealers, he had only been interested in the murder. The idea had only come to him, when Everett had shown up in his office. Still, as a senior officer it was his job to keep the bigger picture in mind, to consider all options and make sure he could use whatever he got from a witness or suspect. Even if he would normally ignore minor charges in favour of getting people to talk in a murder enquiry. But he still had to consider those charges and the full implications of them before he could make that decision. He had failed there. He couldn’t blame Phryne, she had been sharp and brilliant as ever. No, this was his own mess. If anything he had gotten too comfortable letting her take the lead and he had started slacking.  
“Do you want me to talk to him again?“ he ground out, offering at least to try and fix his mistakes.  
“No!“ Everett shook his head emphatically, “If you go in there and question him again he knows something is up. No. He probably thinks he’s confessed, the same way you did and as any normal person would, who isn’t a professional pettifogger. He‘d have to be very clever to know we have nothing. We've talked this through all morning, and Rodgers and I agreed, I’ll talk to him and make my offer. Threaten him into compliance if I have to.“ he decided.  
“You want to bluff him?“ Jack asked.  
The prosecutor shrugged. “Worst case scenario, he calls my bluff, we have to let him go and they know we want information about them. They know that anyway and if I don’t try we have to let him go as well. It won’t hurt to give it a shot.“  
Jack nodded and opened his office door.  
“Constable, please take Mr Owen to the interview room.“ he ordered.  
Collins nodded understanding and dissappeared in direction of the cells. Everett seemed to have calmed down a little.  
“Should I take Collins to sit in?“ he asked, attempting to regain his professional lightheartedness.  
Jack agreed silently. He wasn’t sure, if he was to regard that as a compliment to Hugh, or a sign that he should stay out of it. He tried not to think about it too hard. But when the two of them dissappeared in the interview room his fingers were restlessly drumming on his desk. He tried to continue with the paperwork, but couldn’t concentrate. Damn, this wasn’t even his case, he told himself. Somewhere in Russel Street some poor sod, one Detective Inspector Richard Kahn, according to the request in front of him, was in charge of this case. Why wasn’t he interviewing Robin Owen, Jack wondered idly. When Everett was done with him they should have the lad transfered to City Central, he decided. He had a murder to deal with and no real indication which of his suspects might be the murderer. He didn’t really manage to convince himself of this, as he waited for them to come back out.  
It didn’t take long, which was not a good sign in general. Everett's dark face and the speed with which he barrelled into Jack’s office was another. In this moment he was even more similar to a cannonball than usual. For a second the prosecutor just glared at Jack, then he fell into the visitor chair and let out a heartfelt curse.  
“He’s smarter than I took him for, Jack.“ he said, when he had adequately given vent to his frustration, “He knew exactly how much we have, or don’t have. Awfully cocky that kid.“ he grumbled.  
Jack frowned.  
“He wasn’t yesterday.“ he observed.  
The lad hadn’t seemed like he had been acting. He had genuinly seemed concerned when they had put him in a cell. Suddnely it hit Jack.  
“Collins, did Owen have any visitors since I left last night?“ he barked.  
“A moment, Sir“ Hugh replied darting to the front desk. Ten seconds later he was back at the door to his superior’s office.  
“According to Constable Foster’s notes, he only had one visitor this morning, around ten, Sir,“ he reported, “his brother, a Mr Wren Owen.“  
“Damn.“ Jack cursed.  
“What is it, Jack?“ Everett observed the Inspector with a concerned look in his face.  
“What time did you brief Rodgers on your plan for Owen?“ Jack asked in turn.  
“This morning, right before I got here, nine or so, why?“  
“Owen’s bother works in your office.“  
Everett’s eye bulged incredulously.  
“You know that and you didn’t tell me?“ he exclaimed. “Goddamnit, Jack, are you trying to sabotage this investiation?“  
Everett threw his hands up in frustration. He seemed almost speechless in his irritation.  
“I’ll get you a warrant to search the brother’s home. Better bloody hope we find something.“ he huffed and stalked out of the office, not without banging the door shut behind him hard enought to make the window rattle.  
He nearly ran into Phryne on his way out.  
“What was that about?“ she asked with a nod towards the door, as soon as she had entered Jack’s office. He still looked a little rumpled from the dispute.  
“We’ll have to let Owen go.“ he said, falling heavily into his chair.  
“What? Why?“ she looked confused.  
“Technicallity.“ he relied shortly, signalling her that he didn’t want to talk about it.  
He took a deep breath.  
“We’ll be searching the brother’s flat,“ he said a little calmer, “but I doubt we’ll find anything now.“  
“Why?“ carefully she tried to goad him into telling her what had happened.  
“Owen got a visit from his brother this morning, now he’s fully aware we don’t actually have anything to charge him for. It’s such an obvious tip off, Mr Owen the elder probably spend the last hour clearing out anything suspicious from his place. He has to expect us coming to search it.“  
He sighed deeply. Phryne frowned.  
“He confessed, didn’t he?“ she asked a little confused.  
Jack shook his head and shortly explained what Everett had pointed out to him earlier.  
“It wouldn’t have mattered, if he had thought he had confessed, but his brother must have overheard Everett and the Chief Prosecutor debating the case, and of course he couldn’t wait to pass it on.“ he sighed. “We just lost what could have been a major lead in that case.“  
Phryne nodded thoughfully.  
“It’s not your fault, you know that, right?“ she said.  
He gave her a biting look. “Do I, Miss Fisher?“  
“You should.“ she insisted. “Because it isn’t. It’s not your fault that Robin didn’t confess, because you were investigating a murder case, not a drug offence.“ she continued before he had the chance to protest.  
“And it isn’t your fault that Oliver didn’t take better care to keep a confidential conversation confidential, and neither is it your fault that your officers granted an inmate his basic rights and didn’t deny him a visitor. So none of it really is your fault.“ she concluded, sounding like she had just solved the case of the century.  
He couldn’t help but smile a little, even if she hadn‘t really managed to convince him anymore than he had himself, when he had considered those same arguments earlier. Her face softened as their eyes locked. She let herself look at him like that for a moment, before she jumped up and rounded his desk with a florish.  
“He’s not our murderer anyways.“ she said and a bright smile spread over her face. “Let‘s find out if Ed Paterson is.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hotchkiss Mark 1 aka Hotchkiss M1909 Benét-Mercié machine gun is a french built light machine gun. It was used by British and French troups (among others) during WWI. ANZAC Troups used them mainly during the Sinai and Palestine Campaign (also WWI). It uses 7-8 mm ( .30 - .303) calliber and can fire 400-600 rounds a minute. Production had seized by WWII but a small number was still available and used by the US Navy.  
> Geez, a lot of weaponry this time. I don't know that it was ever colloquially referred to like that, but it would have been weapon most WWI veterans would have been familiar with, so why not.


	11. Deceased in beggary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MSND 5.1.53

Jack was still reeling from the bungled affair with Robin Owen, but he forced himself to focus on the matter at hand, which was the murder of Donny Wardrop. And the next step was to talk to his intended father-in-law again. Let City Central deal with the cocaine business. He had send Hugh to bring Ed Paterson in, which as it turned out had been a little more tricky than either of them had anticipated, because he had been driving Mrs Stanley around town and the Constable had to chase them halfway across the city. Thankfully Mrs Bronfen, the housekeeper, had been able to supply him with an approximate itinerary of her employers appointments for the day and eventually the man sat in the interview room facing Jack and Phryne.

He was clearly nervous, which strangely mollified Jack in that moment. He might have felt a degree of respect, even sympathy for Paterson, but he couldn’t abide being lied to. Combined with a nasty morning that goodwill had evaporated rapidly. Professional neutrality was currently all he could muster for the chauffeur.  
“You payed Robin Owen quite a lot of money to get your hands on a letter addressed to Donny.“ Phryne began.  
She shot Jack a look just for a moment, searching for confirmation to take the lead and seemed to find it somewhere in his face.  
“Why? What was so importaint about that letter?“  
Ed squirmed a little under the detectives stares but quickly gave in:  
“The letter was from ‘is grandfather’s executers, ‘bout his money.“  
“What money? Donny was broke, wasn't he?“  
Ed nodded.  
“'e was now, but ‘e was gonna inherit.“ he muttered, “Donny didn’t know 'bout it. Geoff didn’t get on with 'is dad, that’s why the old man put some fancy legal work in 'is will, so it’d all go to Donny once he turned 25."  
"So you wanted your daughter to marry Donny..." Phryne deliberately leave the sentence hanging.  
"So she’d 'ave a good life." The girl’s father protested.  
As if asking for support he turned to Jack.  
"Nothin' wrong with that, Inspector, is it?" he said, "It’s me duty to make sure my little girl’s well taken care of, innit? An' Donny was a good lad. Weren’t 'is fault old Tappered offed 'imself when 'e did. An' 'e cared for my Minnie. She woulda been a good wife to 'im, too."  
“But you couldn’t let him know about his inheritance, could you?“ Phryne coolly put the pieces together, “Not until the marriage was a done deal. You couldn’t risk him changing his mind about it.“  
The chauffeur nodded dully.  
“I seen the letter when Robin brought in the mail that day. It was sent to me address, 'cause Donny didn’t 'ave one after 'e 'ad to leave at Tappered's, but it was addressed to 'im. I recognised the name of the solicitor, so I paid the lad a quid to give it to me and forget 'e ever saw it.“  
“What was it about?“ Phryne asked.  
Paterson sighed. “They’d heard about the engagement when we posted the banns and wanted to inform 'im 'e could get the money earlier than 'is birthday if 'e was gettin' married.”  
"Who get’s the money, now Mr Wardrop is dead?" Jack asked apparently unimpressed.  
Mr Paterson shrugged.  
"No clue.“  
“Does your daughter know?“ the Inspector continued.  
“I didn’t tell ‘er.“ Ed assured him, “She might have found the letter, though.“ he admitted.  
Jack and Phryne exchanged a look.

At this point a slightly flustered young Constable knocked at the interview room door.  
“Er, Mrs Stanley called, Sir.“ he reported blushing slightly.  
Holderness, Jack vaguely remembered was the lad’s name. He had only been transferred to City South recently, fresh off the academy, and hadn’t made the acquaintance of Aunt Prudence yet, as was blatantly obvious.  
“She er, asked if you’d be requiring Mr Paterson for much longer, because she has an appointment for lunch.”  
A part of Jack wanted to laugh hysterically about the absurdity of the situation. An even larger part of him wanted to scream. He settled for an inward groan and rubbing his temples instead. It was an attitude that was so typical for a woman of the Fisher-Stanley family, to simply expect that a murder investigation bend to their convenience. He couldn’t be surprised anymore, and as much as he would have liked to keep Paterson over night, just to teach those women the lesson that said investigation did indeed have priority over their lunch plans, he had to admit to himself that inciting the wrath of Prudence Stanley was the last thing he needed today. Besides, he told himself to sooth his pride, they really had all they could hope for at the moment.  
“No, I believe that’s all for now. You’re free to go Mr Paterson. No need to inconvenience our Mrs Stanley.“ he said with as much dignity as he could muster.  
Phryne’s discreet hand on his knee helped with that.

“I think we should stick to our own lunch plans.“ she said when they returned to his office. “You could use a break.“  
The picnic basket she had brought with her throned at the centre of his desk, where she had left it. The thought of the delicacies hidden inside was enought to make Jack relax visibly. An thorough investigation of the hamper’s content revealed that the day was yet to come that Mr Butler disappointed. Jack suspected that both of them shared the serious hope that it never would.  
“How is the refurbishing going?“ he asked.  
Anything to distract him for a moment from the events of this morning and remind him of those of last night.  
Phryne grinned.  
“Dot, Jane and Mr B were busy all day yesterday packing everything up and moving it to one of the guest rooms while the builders were 'walking all about the house’ as Dot put it, to work out what to do and how. I think they will be covering up the furniture today and make final arrangements before starting properly tomorrow. From what I understand the walls will have to be opened up.“  
Jack nodded, chewing emphatically. He could feel himself return to his normal equilibrium just listening to her, eating Mr B’s wonderful cheese soufle and forgetting all about damned cocaine dealers, murderers and match makers.  
“I’ve been thinking about having them put in new wallpaper.“ Phryne mused, “Maybe something in blue. What do you think?“  
“You’re asking me about how to decorate your room?“ he asked dryly.  
“It‘ll be our room when it’s done, darling.“ she reminded him, “That is the point of the whole operation.“  
Right. He had actually forgotten that little detail for a second. Even if he had packed up most of his stuff already, and she had teased him mercylessly for being overprepared two weeks in advance, the thought that he’d really be moving to Wardlow in less then ten days still seemed a little unreal. But it was happening, he reminded himself. He really was engaged to that brilliant, impossible and utterly irresistable woman and he would be moving into her house. He cleared his throat.  
“What kind of blue?“

When they reached desert, crème caramel that melted on Jack’s tongue, they had talked about nothing work related throughout their meal. But Phryne was growing visibly restless and he felt that, as much as he had enjoyed the respite, he could probably bear to return to the case on their hands.  
“It’s rather ironic, if you think about it. Donny agreed to marry Minnie for her father’s money and he wanted her to marry him for his money.“ Jack observed.  
“And the only one who didn’t get a say in any of it was Minnie. She was just handed around like a piece of furniture.“ Phryne made a face.  
“Well, it is possible that she inherits the money now, considering he doesn’t have any next of kin and she was his fiancé.“ Jack pointed out.  
“Somehow I doubt it.“ she disagreed. “An engagement is no legally binding arrangement, if you remember, and even if that’s the case, can we assume she knew about it?“  
Jack tilted his head in acquiescence. That had been one of the main reasons she had found being his fiancée acceptable after all. But he had to consider that other people made different arrangements.  
“If she did know, it would give her an excellent motive. A nice start over in Adelaide with Mr Derrington.“  
Phryne had to agree.  
“It’s a good thing we’re staying with Aunt P the next days.“ she commented. “We’ll save a lot of time driving back and forth to interview people.“  
Jack couldn’t help a smirk at that, even though he didn‘t think he could or would start to use any room in the Stanley Mansion as a secondary office, not matter how much petrol he could safe.  
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Hugh very explicitly waited for the Inspector’s 'come in‘ before he opened the door. He had made the mistake of barging in on his superior’s lunch break with Miss Fisher once early on in their relationship, and while he had certainly learned another lesson he must have skipped in Miss Fisher’s book on kissing, he couldn’t think back on that moment without blushing. Dottie had really seemed to like it though, that thing he'd seen them do.  
“I thought you’d want to know, Sir.“ he said by way of apology for intruding.  
"I just heard back from the law firm. It appears Mr Paterson was right: Briggs & Hawkins Solicitors in Warrnambool is entrusted with 7000 Pounds to be held until Mr Wardrop’s 25th Birthday. Either that or his day of marriage."  
Phryne perked up.  
"And now?" she asked  
"He didn’t have any direct relatives," Hugh reported, "so the money will go to a second cousin, who lives in Darwin. I’ve already wired to the local police to locate that cousin and inform him.“  
Jack nodded. “Very good Collins. Notify me as soon as you get a reply.“  
“Yes, Sir. And Mr Everett has send a warrant for the other Mr Owen’s flat.“  
Jack suppressed a deep sigh. Lunch was definitely over then. He pushed himself to his feet.  
“Alright then Collins, get a team together, two more men and we’ll meet at the cars in ten minutes.“ he ordered.  
“Ready to search a clerk’s apartment, Miss Fisher?“ he asked with a hidden smile.  
But the smile disappeared when he saw her face.  
“What’s wrong?“  
She looked positively downcast.  
“I can’t come.“ she sighed disappointedly. “You remember I promised Aunt P last week to go to that charity-do?“  
“The one you agreed to go to so you could bottle out of helping her with the stay-in guests?“ he asked with an amused twinkle in his eyes.  
She rolled hers. “The same one. I wish I had known there’d be a murder.“ she grumbled.  
“God help us, if the Honourable Miss Fisher behaved like the socialite that she is for once.“ he teased, although he had to admit to a slight disappointment, at least to himself.  
“It’s a tea dance, Inspector. Don’t get cocky.“ she warmed him.  
“I still don‘t know what that is even supposed to be.“ he admitted.  
She shrugged. “Tea and dancing. Pretty much what it says on the tin.“  
Suddenly a sly smile played on her lips.  
“It‘s being organised by Trudy Charney who is an avid tango dancer.“ she told him, savouring every syllable of the last three words.  
Jack held her eyes without a blink. He hadn’t actually seen Phryne tango before. During her performance at Lydia Andrews soiree he had been outside in the corridor, waiting to be admitted to speak to Mrs Andrews and take in Dot. But he had seen the dance performed and it didn’t take much to imagine Phryne in the place of the female dancer. And while he had no desire to put himself in the position of having her wrapped around him like that in public, he was sorry he wouldn’t get to watch her, yet again. But then, it might be better not to watch that, if he wanted to maintain his own dignity, and more importantly decency.  
His apparent lack of reaction seemed to disappoint her a little. He barely contained a smile at the look on her face, as he leaned in to whisper in her ear:  
“And how do you expect me to conduct a thorough search of someone’s home, after sharing that information, Miss Fisher?“  
Her face lit up into an expression of such unbridled delight and mischief that he couldn’t suppress that fond smile any longer.  
“Don’t break too many hearts.“ he told her.  
She beamed at him.  
“That wouldn’t be very charitable now would it, Jack.“ she quipped before pressing a kiss to his mouth that lasted a lot longer than either of them had intended.  
“But I do expect a detailed report on your findings, when I see you tonight. At Aunt Prudence's don't forget.“ she declared as she sauntered out of his office.  
Jack grinned.  
“Yes, Sir.“ he muttered under his breath.  
She heard him anyway and stuck out her tongue at him over her shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tea dance (as mentioned in 3x4 Blood and money) was a highly popular pastime in the 1920s (until WWII really), especially for dancing Tango and Charleston. The special thing about it was that other than regular dances it was held in the afternoon rather than the evening (though they probably often lasted well into the evening). From the 30s onwards it was gradually replaced by cocktail parties.


	12. Such seething brains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5.1.4

Jack had not been teasing her, when he had said he’d find the thought of Phryne tango dancing a distraction during the search. Well, not exclusively, teasing had been a part of it, but there was truth in it, too. The image was now rather firmly imprinted on his mind, and he had to concentrate to ignoring it.  
Hugh had been slightly surprised when Miss Fisher didn’t accompany them to Wren Owen’s flat, which had tempted Jack beyond words to explain to him that he, as well as the Victoria Police, was still very much able to operate without being chaperoned by Phryne Fisher. He held off by the skin of his teeth, berating himself that it really wasn’t Hugh’s fault. After all Phryne was heavily involved in this investigation and wouldn’t normally pass up an opportunity to snoop through someone else’s things. And neither was it Hugh’s fault that this day was stubbornly determined to throw a spanner in the works any time it teased him with the slim chance that it might improve just a little.

Unsurprisingly Mr Owen seemed to have expected the search. He had even gone to the trouble of informing his landlady about its imminence, which had the lady well and truly riled up by the time the Inspector and his men knocked at her door. She complained loudly, but was suitably impressed by the official paperwork and the three Constables in their uniforms, so she didn’t put up much resistance.  
It was hard to tell if Owen had cleared out the place or not, considering the flat was only very sparsely furnished and excruciatingly neat, even for Jack's standards, who usually cherished a bit of order. This place, however, made you uneasy to touch anything in fear of messing it up. Luckily for Jack at least one of his constables seemed to have no such qualms and started to pull open drawers and skim through folders without hesitation. This shocked the others into action as well and within minutes they were turning the place methodically inside out. To no one’s surprise they came up empty. Wren Owen was a meticulous man, who kept his life organised through a number of lists and notebooks, who filed away every bill and pay slip, and Jack had no doubt that, would he put in the time to check the numbers on those, they would match those in his neatly kept ledger to the last penny. Extravagance was no sin of Owen's either. Although his clothes were clearly in better condition, and probably better fitting, than those of his brother, they were cheap and well worn. There was no indication Wren had ever been involved with anything unsavoury in his life, nor that he had let Robin impose his own shady business on him. In short he was by all accounts a hard working, honest and very neat man.  
His only weakness seemed to be his family. Jack carefully inspected the set of pictures on what was clearly a place of honour next to his bed. All of them were obviously taken by a professional photographer, most likely several years ago. An elderly couple, probably the parents, the six siblings, one portrait of the whole family and a picture of the two brothers. They were all dressed in their Sunday best, looking seriously into the camera and sitting up very straight, but Jack noticed how Robin’s hand was clearly just retreating from tugging on one of sister’s braids in the family picture and the way Wren’s arm was laid around his younger brother’s shoulder. Even on those stilted, somewhat dull photographs it was obvious this family was close.  
All the more unlikely Wren had had no knowledge of his brother’s business, but neither did it seem possible that a neat man like Wren was related to an easygoing fellow like Robin. The two brother’s were clearly very different and Jack assumed it was imaginable that Robin had hidden his less than savoury exploits from the rest of his family. The search at the Owen's house in Collingwood had indicated as much.  
He called the search off after a surprisingly short hour and ten, when it was abundantly clear they wouldn’t find anything, even if they took out the floorboards. Wren hadn’t taken any work related papers home and anything that might have been there had probably been meticulously removed before the police arrived. Jack hadn’t expected much else. None the less there was a sense of disappointment. In his job he depended on criminals making mistakes, so he could never really help hoping for one, even if he didn’t expected it.

Meanwhile Phryne found the dreaded tea dance just as tedious as she had anticipated. She didn’t normally mind socialising and loved dancing, no matter the time of the day, but the hypocrisy of the society fundraisers her aunt constantly tried to drag her to, repulsed her. She had to agree with Jack that dancing and celebrating in splendour seemed out of place when half the world was fighting to put food on the table, even if it was for the purpose of helping those with less. In addition it was always overly clear at these events that no one was there because they wanted to, but because they were expected to, and most people didn’t donate from the goodness of their hearts, but to show off to their peers. And while Phryne presumed the beneficiaries of the donations didn’t much care about their benefactor’s motives it still made her skin crawl. At least this time there was supposed to be dancing.  
Unfortunately, yet unsurprisingly, there was a surplus on women and the hostess, rather impolitely, was hogging the one good dancer among the menfolk. Phryne attempted a few rounds with an extremely handsome nephew of some dear friend of her aunt's, but unfortunately the boy had two left feet and she barely avoided having her toes trampled on. After that she stuck to her tea cup and an admittedly rather good sponge cake. No comparison to Dot’s of course, but more than edible. It gave her the opportunity to catch up on some of the gossip the Melbourne upper crust had to offer. The expected nature of the afternoon’s entertainment had ensured that the attendees were largely around Phryne’s age, while the older generation had excused themselves, or send their younger relatives. Naturally Phryne was most interested in gossip about herself. As a general rule she didn’t care what other people thought of her, with a very select few exceptions, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like to know what was being said. And she had found that she was rather fiercely protective of Jack’s reputation, despite his assurance he could weather a little gossip. Luckily most of her ‘peers’ didn’t care much about Jack other than as the man who had ‘caught' Phryne Fisher.  
There was a natural rift in the group gathered today between those who had been invited to the party and those who hadn’t, which created a tension that she found rather exhilarating. She was becoming much too proper and traditional, she thought. She was engaged for heaven’s sake. The least she could do was to continue wearing the most scandalous dresses (she had resurrected the red and campaign gown she had worn on her first outing back in Melbourne for this occasion), always in the anticipation of the moment when said fiancé would take it off her, and snub a few people by deciding not to waste her time with them.  
So she fully enjoyed listening to Liza Ackroyd bad mouthing her to Eva Chambers. She had never liked either of them particularly, and listening to them held no sting. It was a strange game since she was very well aware that the two other women knew exactly that she was listening, but neither of them seemed bothered by that knowledge. Unfortunately Liza wasn’t the most creative of tattlers. There were the obligatory snide remarks against the lowly Police Inspector, who was “Divorced! can you believe it?“ and the all too ridiculous assumption that she only married him because she was in trouble. Nothing Phryne hadn’t heard a million times before and she was looking forward to what would happen to the rumours about a shot gun wedding, once their engagement would turn out to be a long-term affaire.

Liza was just questioning the timing of the party “After all who throws a party in the middle of July anyways“, when a gleeful voice cut through the scorn:  
“Phryne Fisher! I had no idea you would be here.“  
Phryne turned towards the voice and was immediately faced with a tall, elegantly dressed woman with what seemed an overly complicated hairdo, that none the less made her look easily ten years younger than she was. Mathilda ‚Tilly‘ Everett definitely looked her best this afternoon.  
Phryne greeted the woman graciously. She didn’t like Tilly quite as much as her husband, but she knew from her aunt that she was devoting every second of her spare time to worthy causes, sitting on almost more bords than Aunt P even, and she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders and the heart in the right place. Unfortunately she was a bit of a bore. The only thing she seemed to know to talk about, other than her charities, was India, the country she had grown up in. While Phryne, who had visited, agreed that it was an endlessly fascinating place, she found Tilly’s viewpoint irksomely limited. She clearly hadn’t been back in decades and kept repeating stories about the same half hand full of people nobody knew or cared about. So Phryne did her best to keep the conversation to Australian matters. She mentioned her meeting with Oliver earlier this morning and that the case had hit a bit of a snag.  
“Oh dear,“ Tilly sighed. “He’ll be in a foul mood all day then. He takes these things too personal, sometimes.“ she indicated.  
Phryne nodded understandingly.  
“Jack’s the same way.“ she confided. “It’s just hard sometimes to detach yourself.“  
Tilly agreed whole heartedly.  
“I know. Especially now, where so many people have it so hard. Which is why I’m so glad you’re here today.“ she smiled brightly.  
“I know it can sometimes seem like such a callous thing, going to these things, dancing and drinking, but surely you of all people understand that we’re really making a difference here for someone out there.“  
Phryne forced a smile and a nod. She had to admit that Tilly was probably right, but she just made it sound too much like a sales pitch.  
“There is definitely no one who could accuse you of being indifferent and not doing enough.“ she said kindly.  
Tilly laughed overly modestly.  
“I just wish I could do more.“ she said. “I’m trying to get more of my friends to contribute, or to put something up themselves. One of my childhood friends, decent man all in all, he’s become one of the richest men in India, he’s importing even to Australia now, has the ear of all the important people, even the viceroy, but do you think he even considers doing anything about the situation there?“ she huffed. “He just doesn’t see that we have a responsibility, us who are so lucky.“  
Again Phryne couldn’t possibly disagree. Most of the well off people she knew didn’t think of their wealth as a blessing that they could share, but rather as a prerogative they somehow deserved. It certainly wasn’t what Tilly said that made her grind her teeth, it was how she was making her point, blatantly slipping in her own connections and deserts. Luckily at this instant a not entirely repulsive gentlemen stepped towards them to ask Phryne for a dance and she accepted, grateful to escape the conversation, even if only for a few minutes.  
Her partner was a decent dancer, if a little too careful for real fun. Unfortunately the next dance after the rather enjoyable foxtrot turned out to be a waltz and Phryne had no inclination to risk her reason on this particular day, no matter how small that risk might be. She decided she had wasted enough time here and did what was necessary to excuse herself shortly after.

By half past four Jack was ready to wrap up the day. He had spend hours getting the paperwork for the search finished, and it hadn’t exactly helped him to get over the gnawing of his professional conscience that still bothered him. Leaving aside the fact that he still found it ridiculously hard to focus.  
The interview with Minnie Paterson hadn’t brought forth much more new information either. Jack had decided against driving to the Stanley Estate and dealing with the housekeeper again. Risking the woman’s wrath, he had instead sent a Constable to bring the young woman in. Unfortunately she didn’t seem to know any more than she had already told him. At the announcement that her fiancé had been eligible to inherit a large amount of money on his wedding day, she had reacted completely surprised. She had sworn her father had never shared that information with her, nor had she known about it by any other means. That her father had poached a letter containing that information had been news to her. Jack was not entirely convinced she was telling the truth, but currently he didn’t have any proof that she didn’t. Her alibi was flimsy, but her motive was equally uncertain.  
The information that Robin Owen had been the one who supplied Wardrop with cocaine had surprised her less. She had admitted to a sneaking suspicion after hearing her fiancé had taken up the habit, but apparently it had been more of a gut feeling. She denied ever having bought anything off Owen herself, which matched Owen’s statement as to whom in the house he had procured things for.  
Jack had to let her go, feeling he either dealt with a brilliant actress, or an innocent woman and yet being entirely uncertain which one it was. Logically she still was the best candidate, even if she told the truth about the money. With another glace at his watch he shelved the thought for the moment. He had another hour to kill before he could reasonably excuse himself from the station. He sighed.  
“Collins, have we heard from the prosecutor about the Owen brothers?“ Jack called out to his Senior Constable.  
It was a hopeless hope. They might have done the search of Wren’s flat, but since they hadn’t found anything, there wasn’t really anything they contributed to the case anymore, so there was no reason Everett should keep them in the loop. He still couldn’t keep himself from asking. Hugh was in the door in a moment.  
“No, Sir, but we just received a reply to our enquiry about the victims cousin from the police in Darwin,“ he replied and handed Jack a telegram, “it seems he’s dead.“  
Jack scanned the content of the missile, glad for the distraction.

**to: Sr Det. Insp. J. Robinson, Vic Police**   
**from: Sg L. Wilson, NT Police**   
**ref: enquiry Stephen Tillyard**   
**S Tillyard died 1927 pneumonia STOP wife no children STOP further enquires pending STOP**

“I checked with the solicitors again and they confirmed that after Mr Tillyard’s death his wife is eligible to inherit the 7000 pounds.“ Hugh reported.  
Jack nodded, taking the information in. Wife trumped fiancée it seemed.  
“Good work, Collins.“ he praised.  
“That exonerates Miss Paterson then, doesn’t it Sir?“ Hugh suggested.  
“Not if she thought she would inherit as his fiancée.“ Jack disagreed.  
Hugh nodded.  
“It does mean, however, that we have to find that wife.“ Jack pointed out. “I take it the guys in Darwin are looking, but we should still keep out eyes open.“  
“Is she a suspect, Sir?“ Hugh asked surprised, “But isn’t she in Darwin?“  
“Presumably yes, Collins, and if that’s the case I think we can safely assume she didn’t kill Mr Wardrop. But the line 'further inquiries pending‘ suggests the Darwin Police haven’t located her yet, which is rather surprising in itself.“ he explained.  
Hugh nodded.  
“Now, she might just have moved after her husband’s death, but should that move have led her anywhere near Melbourne she would be a suspect.“


	13. What dances shall we have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5.1.32

The first order, when Phryne finally arrived at her aunt's was to get out of her shoes and then take a long relaxing bath. The second was to inquire, if Jack was still, or possibly already, there.  
“No, Miss, the Inspector didn’t come here all day.“ Dot informed her, while she put out the dress for dinner and put away the other one, glad there wasn’t any blood to wash out of it this time.  
“He had a constable pick up Minnie a while ago, but she’s already come back.“ she reported. “But Hugh’s shift ended just about half an hour ago, so they should be here any minute now.“  
Phryne nodded as she started on her make up, waiting for her hair to dry completely.  
Dot seemed to have something else on her mind though. The way she fidgeted with everything she could get her hands on was unmistakable.  
“What is it, Dot?“ Phryne asked watching her companion bustle about as well as she could in her current state.  
“Nothing bad, Miss.“ Dot was quick to assure her. “Just that there was a bit of a mix up with the rooms and Mrs Bonfer wouldn’t listen to me. You see, they put Hugh and me in one of the guestrooms.“  
Phryne couldn’t help a smile.  
“It’s not a mistake at all Dot. I specifically asked them to put you in that room. You’re staying here as my guests and my friends for the party after all, so you’ll be treated as such. And before you say anything, I absolutely insist.“  
Her smile widened as Dot blushed deeply, but her companion had learned that in some respects there was no use arguing with her Mistress.  
“Thank you Miss, you really shouldn’t though.“ she said, unable to hide a happy smile of her own.  
“Poppycock.“ Phryne dismissed the very idea with her usual straightforwardness. “I want the best for you and Hugh, especially now.“  
Dot blushed a little more, but didn’t seem to know what more to say.  
“It is a very nice room.“ she admitted.  
“There you go.“ Phryne beamed and that was that.  
Half an hour later the two women strutted arm in arm down to dinner.

On the bottom of the stairs they encountered Dr Mac deep in conversation with Georgina Charlesworth, both clearly also headed for the dinning room.  
“What are you doing here?“ Phryne asked surprised.  
Mac shrugged. “I live in a two room apartment in Carlton, with an illegal pub around the corner. Can you blame me for wanting to stay in your aunt’s house while I can?“ she asked dryly.  
Phryne laughed.  
“And if I want to cover your engagement properly, I have to be there for the whole of it.“ Georgina said with a wink.  
“I didn’t know you did the social calendar now, Miss Charlesworth.“ Phryne teased.  
Her former teacher smiled indulgently.  
“Oh, no my dear, this is going to be an editorial.“  
Phryne laughed more and joined her friends.  
“Who else has arrived already?“ she asked.  
“A few big wigs from Sydney and some of your aunt‘s friends from the hinterland.“ Mac summed up. “You’ll see then at dinner I guess.“  
Phryne hummed. She had a vague idea of the people Mac referred to. She was enjoying the thought of any of them realising that Mac referred to the exclusive estates they inhabited outside the cities perimeters as hinterland. The party might turn out to be more fun than she had bargained for. She was looking forward to it.  
“Hugh, Bert and the Yates’ arrived just before me, too.“ Mac continued. “I think they intend to stay in the kitchen, which your aunt seems to encourage.“ She shot her best friend a look.  
“Well, I don’t.“ Phryne declared instantly, “They’re my guests and I will not have them be banned from the dinner table.“ she decided, “Give me a minute while I talk to Aunt P. Dot, do you want to welcome your husband?“

Thankfully the matter was quickly sorted, simply by Phryne’s unrelenting insistence, even when faced with both her aunt’s disapproval and her friend’s assurance that they would prefer the kitchen anyways. Only Bert had no problem seeing the dinner table as his right 'same as any toff’s‘. He seemed to take great pleasure in ignoring Hugh’s pleading looks, who might actually have preferred the kitchen to a table full of rich and sophisticated people. In the end Phryne had her way, like no one had ever truly doubted, and the three men, Dot and Alice took their seats at the long dinning table together with the other guests.

“Will Jack not be coming for dinner?“ Aunt Prudence sounded a little put out at the rudeness of someone not appearing at her table on time.  
“Well, we are trying to solve this case before tomorrow evening, Aunt P,“ Phryne told her, “so Jack might be working a little late. I’m sure he hates to miss out on dinner just as much as you do.“  
Her aunt merely huffed, so Phryne doubled down on her.  
“It’s no wonder it all takes longer, I couldn’t help him this afternoon, since you sent me to Trudy’s charity dance.“ she pointed out.  
“You can’t neglect all your social responsibilities for that detecting of yours.“ Aunt Prudence chastised her.  
In front of her honourable guests she seemed even more dissapproving than normally.  
“I would have gone myself, but unfortunately I’m not as young as I used to be.“ she stated haughtily.  
The comment prompted a commiserative reply from the gentleman sitting next to her, one of the Sydney power elite, if Phryne remembered correctly, and the two engaged in a lengthy discussion of the ailments of advanced age and how one just had to put on a brave face and bear it with dignity. Phryne rolled her eyes with the arrogance of all young people and turned to Alice, who was sitting next to the empty seat that marked Jack’s absence next to her. Mrs Yates seemed a little overwhelmed and hadn’t spoken much at all, other than an occasional whisper to her husband and Phryne made it her task to set the young woman at ease and draw some smiles and a bit of chatter from her.  
On Aunt Prudence other side Jane was arguing with Bert about the place of gambling in a communist society. Jane had made the, not entirely unjustified, remark that Bert shouldn’t be so keen on betting, if he were truly devoted to the idea of a world without property. As a matter of his honour the red ragger couldn’t possibly let that statement stand. The debate reached a heat that prompted Aunt Prudence to intervene with her patented disapproving look that could even get an enraged wharfie to hang his head in shame.  
“Sorry, Mrs S.“ he muttered, hiding his embarrassment behind a deep gulp from his whine glass.  
With an internal sigh Phryne decided to rescue Bert from her aunts wrath, at least temporarily.  
“Speaking of redistributing property,“ she said lightly, “I talked to Tilly Everett today. I keep thinking she’s a nice woman, yet I’m not sure I’m ready to do it again tomorrow.“ she admitted, with a wink towards Jane.  
Her aunt frowned.  
“Tilly is an irreplaceable asset to this city.“ she declared, “She is indispensible in her work for good causes. I don’t know what we would do without her. And she’s already had a dreadful week, so I really hope you’ll behave towards her.“  
Phryne looked up.  
“Oh, yes, Oliver mentioned there was some dispute with one of the charities she works for.“ she remembered.  
“It was unheard of.“ Prudence frayed immediately, “Tilly has been in charge of the hospital fund‘s finances for almost a decade and the books have always been impeccable. And now suddenly Eva Chambers starts stirring up trouble, suggesting that we 'rotate the position‘.“ She sounded positively abhorred by the idea. “Poor Tilly was beside herself.“  
Mac and Phryne shared an eye roll at the problems of people with no bigger problems. Bert made a choking sound, stuffing his mouth with food to keep himself from talking. He might have strong opinions on those toffs, but he was smart enough to know he was still on probation, so for once in his life he made the wise decision to keep his mouth shut. The food probably helped though.

Against all odds dinner ended without any more incidents, other than a couple of slightly baffled higher-ups. It was already clear that the engagement party of Phryne Fisher and Jack Robinson would be a scandalous affair, even if everybody had a lovely time.  
And it turned out the evening hadn't yet seized on surprises: As the Ladies got up from the table, Aunt Prudence called out to Hugh.  
“If I may have a word before you retire, Constable.“ she demanded. “The Inspector implied I should talk to you, if I considered filing a complaint against that photographer, Fredrik Burn.“  
Hugh's expression was that of a child on Christmas morning. He got up so eagerly he nearly tipped over the chair.  
“Yes Mrs Stanley.“ he confirmed. “I'd be my pleasure.“  
Phryne couldn't hide a grin as she watched the two disappear into the library to discuss the details of this complaint. She didn't miss Dot looking after them, too, and muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like 'Go get him Hugh', which only made her smile grow wider.  
For herself, Phryne wasn't quite ready to call it a day either. She felt herself still brimming with energy. Maybe it was the anticipation for a good dance that had never come to pass in the afternoon, or maybe it was the joy of having all of her favourite people around her. Well, almost all, one very important member of that group was still notably absent. Either way she felt unwilling to let the evening end just yet, so she left her aunt with her guests, and as soon as Hugh was back, still grinning from ear to ear, she herded her nearest and dearest to her private parlour for a nightcap.

Jack arrived a considerably later at the Stanley Mansion than he had hoped. The Commissioner had called, as per usual at the very last minute of his shift, and had demanded a full report, not only on the case, but of course also on the whole Owen debacle. After a detailed recap of both cases as far as Jack knew them, and a lot of huffing and puffing he had emphatically reminded Jack that he was about to stay in a house full of suspects, and that he needed to be careful to maintain his professional distance. As a consequence Jack was glad that the person opening the door for him, when he arrived, decidedly late for dinner, was none other than Mr Butler.  
“Good evening, Sir, the others have just retired to Miss Fisher’s private parlour.“ he informed him.  
“I wasn’t aware you would migrate here with us in your professional capacity, Mr Butler.“ Jack said a little astonished.  
The older man made a face that was equivalent to a shrug.  
“While Miss Fisher was very adamant that I’d be off duty and enjoy myself at the evening of the celebration, I see no reason to be idle in the meantime. And as the position of Butler in Mrs Stanley's household is still vacant, I'm happy to fill in for the time being. It also seemed a good solution considering you’d likely want to avoid personal contact with Mrs Stanley’s servants during the course of the murder investigation.“ he explained.  
“And of course Miss Fisher and I agreed that you might prefer me to act as your valet during your stay, considering I’m already familiar with your particulars.“ he added casually.  
Jack startled.  
“My valet?“ he sputtered.  
“A formality for the time of your stay, Sir. For the sake of appearance. Mrs Stanley insisted.“ Mr Butler assured him.  
Jack’s head nodded, while his mind was still trying to get used to the idea.  
“I wasn’t aware I had particulars.“ he stated to distract himself from his embarrassment.  
“You like to dress and shave yourself, Sir.“ Mr Butler informed him kindly.  
Again the Inspectors head nodded rather in spite of his mind.  
“Ah.“  
Somehow he had the feeling coming from anyone else this sentence would have entailed a judgement. Once more Jack found himself quietly thanking whatever deity had seen fit to place Mr Butler in their path. God knows where they would be without him.

While they were talking the butler had taken his coat and hat, stored them somewhere, and then led the Inspector up the stairs into the depth of the house. Getting nearer, the sound of music mixed with raucous laughter could be heard. When Mr Butler opened the door to Phryne’s private parlour Jack couldn’t help wondering, if the party hadn’t been moved forward without anyone telling him about it. Everyone was there, dancing, drinking, chatting and laughing. Hugh was spinning Jane around, Cec danced with Alice. Bert and Mac were in a heated argument about something, Dot sat relaxed on a chaise, having put her legs up and chatted with Georgina Charlesworth.  
Phryne stopped whatever she had been doing the moment the door opened and her eyes flew to him.  
“Jack! At last.“  
She scurried to him, gripping his hand and pulling him into the room.  
“You, too Mr B.“ she ordered “It’s late enough for you to join us.“  
Jack could hear the other man’s smile in his quiet demur that he first had to procure some sustenance for the Inspector, since he had missed dinner, as he was dragged halfway across the room to the middle of what had apparently been declared the dance floor.  
“Haven’t you danced enough yet?“ he asked smirking.  
With the promise of food and company the evening was looking up.  
“Not with you.“ she replied grinning. “And you need to practice for the party.“  
“What is that supposed to mean?“ he demanded, suddenly wary.  
“You didn’t really think I’d be sticking to waltzing alone at my engagement party, Jack Robinson.“ she chided him.  
He tilted his head slightly. “One can only hope.“  
“I’m not expecting a Charleston or a Tango, Jack“ she exclaimed “However delightful that would be, I’m aware you have limits when it comes to public display of your passions, but maybe a Foxtrot?” She grinned at him. “And there’ll definitely be a polonaise, possibly even a midnight Française.“  
Jack raised an eyebrow.  
“I didn’t take you for country dancer.“  
“Only gets to show you don’t come dancing with me nearly often enough, Jack.“ she returned.  
He crocked his head in acquiescence.  
“As much as I love seeing you enjoy yourself, I would probably tire quite quickly of watching you dance with other people.“ he said pointedly.  
She put her hands in her hips.  
“You know very well, that’s not what I’m asking, Jack Robinson. I could teach you, you know. It really isn’t as hard or as indecent as you might think. I’m sure you’d be quite good at it, if you practiced your footwork a little.“  
Jack decided not to comment that a woman who was able to learn to fan dance in less than a day was hardly a good judge of how difficult learning to dance was for other people.  
“Don’t you think you’ve swept me off my feet more than enough?“ he teased her instead,  
“And it worked out for you, didn’t it?“ she replied so triumphantly he could barely repress a smile.  
It wasn’t that he didn’t love dancing with her. But she was right, public displays of affection in any shape or form did not come easily to him, a trait that had so far gone very well with his need to maintain a professional reputation. He sighed deeply.  
“There’s going to be people there, Phryne.“  
She rolled her eyes.  
“That is the whole point of a party, you know.“  
“Yes, I’m painfully aware of that.“ he sighed again.  
She stepped closer and took his hands.  
“We agreed we wanted to do this.“ she reminded him.  
He nodded.  
“I know.“  
“Have you changed your mind?“  
“No. I never liked it from the get go.“  
“Don’t be such a wuss, Jack.“ Mac intruded on their exchange.  
“The whole point of all this fuss is to tell the world you two are official. You might at least enjoy making a show of it.“ she chided him.  
Jack rolled his eyes good naturedly. The doctor was right, of course. And if he was perfectly honest with himself, he was fascinated by a lot of modern music and dance. That was why he had started learning the songs on the piano. It just was a whole different thing to do that sort of thing in front of people.  
“Well, Doctor, why don’t show me how it’s done then.“ he challenged her, not missing the gleeful beam on Phryne’s face.  
After all he had missed seeing her dance once today, it was only right he’d make up for that. Mac just gave him a stern look and rather sarcastically bowed to her friend. Phyne grinned widely  
“You’ll like this one,“ she told him. “It’s the latest dance from America. It’s called the balboa.“  
With that she pressed her torso against Mac’s and gestured to Cec to put the music back on. Jack watched closely as the two women danced and took special note of Mac’s feet, even if he kept being distracted by Phryne’s swirling skirt that played around her calves. It was a rather fast dance, it turned out, but their upper bodies didn’t actually move than much, most of the dancing happened in their feet, which sometimes made it look as if there was no weight on them at all.  
When the song ended and the friends parted the others clapped and hollered. Jack noticed Jane audibly whooped. Phryne noticed, too and raised an eyebrow at her.  
“Do you want to show us how your Tango is coming along?“ she prompted, causing the girl to blush furiously, before both of them dissolved in laughter.

"Well, Jack?" Phryne sauntered up to him again, fluttering her eyelashes at him.  
"Do you want to try it?" she asked seductively.  
Jack considered the dance he had just watched. Purely from an athletic point of view it as probably doable, if no one expected any extravagant figures of him. There was no way in Hades he would ever dance like that in public, but here they were among friends and he had had a miserable day, and had spend way too much time thinking about dancing with her. The way she looked when she did was always so full of joy and elation, it always made him smile. He could use some of that right now. He let out a deep breath and took her hand.  
"What are the steps, Miss Fisher?"

He could have done without the hollering and wolf whistles from the red raggers when she pulled him into the middle of the room, and well without Mac’s roaring laughter when he nearly fell over Phryne’s feet more than once. It was worth it though, just for the look of astonishment and utter delight on her face when he said the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dancelessons:
> 
> A midnight francaise, or midnight quadrille is a contre dance particularly popular in the northern Alpine region (aka Austria & Southern Germany). It was a fashionable dance in the 18th and 19th century, but is still being danced today. I know it's completely anachronisitic and not at all something that would have been done in Australia, but it's just the kind of thing I imagine would be happening on a party like that. As the name indicates it's held at midnight and usually marks the end of the formal part of the evening. It's also the kind of dance everyone participates, although the MC and your favorite auntie are the only ones left who still remember the steps. In other words fun.
> 
> The Balboa is a dance that became popular in the 1930s & 40s. However, it was developed earlier (possibly as early 1915) so I decided it was absolutely possible that it was an up and coming thing in 1930, especially since we know Phryne is always ahead of her time ;-) While it can have some rather elaborate footwork, the basic steps are pretty simple, and it's a lot less showy than for example the Lindy Hop of the Carolina Shag (seriously who names those dances?), so I thought Jack might be more amendable to it. It's also known to be, if not exactly slow, very close.


	14. The opportunity of night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2.1.217

It was late by the time everyone had dispersed and they settled into their bedroom, a shared one as Jack noted with equal parts surprise and satisfaction. It seemed that either Phryne had managed to trick her aunt, which in this particular case was fine by him, or Mrs Stanley had indeed given up her reservations regarding the propriety of their relationship. Somehow the first option seemed more likely.  
Jack was pleasantly tired now. He had danced until he had felt reasonably secure in the steps and then contented himself to watching Phryne enjoy herself as she continued spinning through the room. He had finally had that conversation with Miss Charlesworth about the feminist virtues of Shakespeare's Cleopatra and had almost had her convinced. He had had a nice chat with Jane, too. She seemed a lot more comfortable in his presence now and he could have said the same, although if it was a permanent shift or due to the hour and the drinks he had had he wouldn’t have been able to say.  
“I never thanked you,“ she had said, ”you know, for the other night. For letting me have that evening with Phryne and talk to her.“  
“From what I heard about that talk, I think I’m rather glad you had it.“ he’d admitted with a grimace.  
They had both had a good chuckle about it, now that that was sorted.  
“Will you be alright with this?“ he had asked carefully.  
She had looked at him for a long while before she nodded.  
“I think so. I always knew it was coming, right?“  
“You did?“ he’d asked surprised.  
Mac had told him more than once that he and Phryne had been fairly obvious about their feelings for each other for 'too bloody long‘. Obvious for everyone but each other, but he hadn‘t thought Jane would have noticed halfway around the world. She had just given him a look.  
“Please.“  
Apparently she had.  
In any case it felt good to have cleared the air in that regard. In addition to getting to watch Phryne dancing after all and a generally pleasant evening, Jack was more than ready to let himself sink into Mrs Stanley’s comfortable guest bed, next to the woman he loved, and tick this day off as maybe not as bad as it had sometimes seemed.

The woman in question, however, didn’t seem to feel the hour yet.  
“So what did your search yield?“ she asked as she removed her make up.  
Jack groaned. “Can it wait until tomorrow, please Phryne? I honestly can’t wait for this day to be over.“ he begged.  
She pouted. “You promised.“  
He sighed. She wasn’t going to give up, he knew her well enough to know that. So he dug through his pockets for his notebook and chucked it in her general direction. He couldn’t take police files from the station, but he had been taking personal notes, mindful she’d pester him about it.  
“There isn‘t much to tell anyways.“  
She caught the notebook midair and started leaving through it. She threw him a critical glance at the sight of his handwriting, barely legible as always, but found the page in no time.  
“Robin’s brother’s name is Wren?“ Phryne asked slightly incredulously.  
“It seems there was a theme with the names in that family.“ Jack told her. “The daughters are called Heather, Laurel, Fern and Ivy.“  
He was pulling on his pyjama bottoms and sat on the bed to button up the top.  
“So no traces of collusion or cocaine in Wren Owen’s flat.“ she concluded. “And your interrogation of Minnie Paterson didn‘t bring any new leads either?“  
He shrugged.  
“Fitting results for a day like today.“ he said, sounding incredibly tired.  
Phryne put the book aside and crawled into bed next to him.  
“At least it ended on a high note.“ she told him and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth, pulling him to cuddle up by her side.  
"Did you have an engagement party when you married Rosie?" she asked.  
"Hmm. Her mother insisted. Nothing like this though."  
"What was it like?"  
He thought back for a moment.  
"Smaller, less extravagant, of course. It was family, friends, neighbours and a handful of people George deemed important. It was early summer, late October, I think, surprisingly warm day. We held a tea party in the garden, rather than a dinner. But there was dancing. Country dancing." he added quickly.  
“So you have been to a tea dance before.“ she teased.  
“Does it count if I didn‘t know it?“ he replied in the same tone.  
She rolled her eyes at him, but didn’t respond to the question.  
"Did you mind it as much as this one?" she inquired with a impish smirk.  
"I don’t..." he sputtered. "I don’t mind it, I just feel a little odd about it. We’re in the middle of a depression. I see it everyday at work, what that does to people and yet here I am preparing for a party to be held in our honour. The kind of party I would never have been invited to two years ago, that probably cost more money than I have seen in my entire life."  
She hummed understandingly.  
"But you’re right" he conceded. "I didn’t mind as much back then. I was different then. I enjoyed it more, being the centre of attention, I think. I was young and proud to show of my beautiful bride to the bigwigs George wanted to impress and to anyone really, that I, the boy from Richmond, lowly Police Constable had gotten _that_ girl."  
She looked up to him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher.  
"And now you don’t feel like that?"  
He contemplated the question for a moment before answering.  
"Well, you’re not my blushing bride, for starters." he offered with a smirk. "You’re my partner, my friend. Possibly my ruin.“  
She grinned mischievously at that.  
„And you never feel like something I 'got‘. That concept doesn’t apply to you. It would imply that I somehow caught you, or own you, or even just have you and that’s not what it feels like. I’m not sure what word I would use, but not that. That you're with me, maybe. Besides," he added with that lopsided smile she loved so much, "whenever we’re at any of those things it feels much more like you’re showing off me."  
She cuddled back into his side with a contented hum.  
"That may very well be the case, Jack Robinson." she said with a smile. “That may well be.”

Jack woke up in the middle of the night, he wasn’t quite sure why. His throat was dry and he felt strangely cold. At least the last part was quickly explained, when he turned around to Phryne and found nothing but cool sheets. He listened into the darkness for a moment, if he could hear her in the bathroom or the parlour, but there was nothing but the all too familiar sound of an empty room at night. He frowned and sat up, turning on the light. A note was left on the nightstand:  
“Gone for a Turkish bath. If I’m not back by dawn, come after me.“  
There was an address in a back alley he thought to be off Little Lonsdale street. Jack let out a curse and scrambled out of bed. It wasn’t anywhere near dawn, but there was no way in hell he was going to sit here and wait for her. She wasn’t one for sitting at home knitting socks by the fire, but neither was he.  
Only when he gave the address through to the constable on duty, as he called for backup, did he realise that it wasn’t the one City Central suspected the cocaine headquarters to be in. This one was further up, almost at the corner of Russell Street. What was she doing there?

It was darker inside the building than she had anticipated and Phryne was glad she had had the foresight to bring a torch. Fortunately she had also checked the floor plans in preparation of her break in, so she didn’t have to search long for the right office. The name signs on the doors really were a convenience no larger building should do without she decided. It made breaking in so much more easily.  
She felt a little bad about leaving Jack behind, he would have been a great help as soon as he’d stopped telling her that this was a terrible idea. Idly she wondered exactly how Melbourne’s most upright policeman had such a talent as a burglar as he had proven to have, more than once. Of course she couldn’t have brought him along since this part of the investigation wasn’t strictly speaking legal, and had he even known about it, he would have had to arrest her. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t use whatever she was likely to find. She made a quiet sound of satisfaction when she finally found the right door. It was locked, but that only deterred her for half a minute. Unfortunately it only led to an outer-office with yet another door between her and her main goal. With an annoyed huff she crouched before the lock and went to work.

Inside the office her eyes darted between the desk and a heavy filling cabinet, before she settle on the desk first. There was enough light coming from the windows to navigate the room without the torch which she made use of without hesitation. That way there was less risk that some passer by or neighbour saw the flickering of the light from the outside. And really the only police she wanted to show up here was already notified. At least he would be when he woke up.  
She had to use the torch again though, when she reached the desk. The locked bottom drawer was immediately interesting. The third lock in five minutes yielded to her lock pick and she held up her torch to see what she had unearthed. Just when her eyes settled on a piece of paper that made a sound of triumph rise in her chest, she heard a noise that let her freeze: The sound of several pairs of shoes in the hallway.

When Jack arrived, two constables were already waiting for him, eying what was clearly the back entrance to a large building on LaTrobe Street. The door didn’t seem to have been broken into, so she must have scaled the building somehow. An open window on the first floor offered an easy entrance point.  
„Go round up front and see what building this is.“ Jack ordered one of the men, who scurried off with a quick nodd.  
Jack was hesitant to just storm the building. He didn’t have a warrant, and for now he couldn’t claime exigent circumstances either. Besides he was early, so if he barged in now there was a good chance he disturbed whatever she was doing and if he caught her in any other situation than mortal danger he’d have to arrest her for break and enter. He cursed under his breath. The uncertainty of it was the worst part. Well, at least it was unlikely she found herself being steamed alive in there, he thought wryly. Not that that meant she wouldn’t find a million other ways to get in and out of trouble. Looking at the young man beside him eagerly awaiting his orders he regretted for a moment that he hadn’t woken Hugh. But the lad deserved his sleep and it really wouldn’t do to upset Mrs Collins, just because Phryne might or might not be in danger. After all there was the distinct possibility that she would strut out of there in a minute with a smug smile, having found some crucial evidence, or potentially another murder victim. Neither would have been the first time. The problem for him right now was that he didn’t know.  
Before he could come to a conclusion on how to proceed the constable he had send around the corner came back.  
„It’s the Crown Prosecutor’s office.“ he reported, a little breathless.  
Jack just stared at the man as if he had told him marsians were real.  
„The...“ he chocked out, before he let out a curse he hadn’t used since the war.  
His voice echoed ominously between the walls of the narrow alleyway. Two constables looked in utter shock at their normally so composed Inspector. Under different circumstances he would have been willing to bet neither of them had ever heard that word said out loud before. But currently he couldn’t care less about the younger men’s sensibilities. Phryne was in this building, one he couldn’t possibly access without some severe indication that something was amiss, not without risking his job and her liberty. He didn’t even want to think about the implications if she was right and found something. He wanted to swear more at the thought. But before he could find the appropriate vocabulary something caught his eye in one of the upper floor windows. A flickering light.

Phryne was equally relieved and flooded with worry, when she heard Jack curse loud enough to alert half the neighbourhood. He’s early, ridiculously was the first thought that flashed through her mind. Thank God, the second. The problem was, if she had heard him, it was likely that the three men in the room she was currently hiding in had heard him as well. She tried to listen closely to the sounds coming from in front of the filling cabinet she was stuck behind. Fortunately they hadn’t dared turning on the headlights so she was rather well hidden in her dark corner, but the light from the window came in, so she didn’t dare peeking around the corner to see what they were doing. They had halted their rustling for a moment when they heard Jack’s exploit. Phryne heard a few steps before one of them breathed a low curse.  
„Why is there a bunch of cops out the back door?“ he whispered angrily to his colleagues.  
A smile tugged on Phryne’s lips when she recognised the voice despite the low volume. She didn’t think he’d be coming himself. She must have underestimated how much they had ruffled his feathers.  
„They’ll never see us if we’ll leave out front.“ one of the men suggested.  
„No they won’t but the night guard will.“ the other pointed out. „Even I can’t justify leaving here at this hour, especially if I didn’t come in through the front.“  
„Maybe they’ll leave if we keep out heads down.“ the third said hopefully.  
Unfortunately that was exactly what Phryne feared might happen. She knew of course that Jack would never abandon her, but it was no where near the time she had given him and she was well aware that he couldn’t just storm in the Prosecutors office in the middle of the night, just because she had left him a cryptic message with not enough information. She bit her lip. She clearly still needed to work on that. Her main thought process so far had been not to implicate him, so he could claim ignorance of her doing. Only now did it occur to her she should have shared at least her suspicion with him, even at the risk that he would anticipate her little night time investigation. The ringleader’s voice cut interrupted her musing.  
„Nah, Robinson’s not the type to give up. He‘s like a dog with a bone that one. If he’s here, he’s got a reason.“  
Suddenly his tone changed and his voice went up a little.  
„And I bet it’s a good reason, isn’t it Miss Fisher?“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwuhaha!  
> Sorry. But I think I'm entitled to one little cliffhanger per fic.
> 
> I'm still not entirely sure which end of Little Lon is 'the wrong end'. While my gut says it's the eastern end, probably because of the way the show depicts chinatown, logically there are a lot of public buildings on the east side while the west is close to the docks. Logic won.  
> I have also no idea which direction is up or down ( I don't suppose geographic height works, in that case any direction heading away from Elisabeth Street would be up, right? ;-)  
> The Prosecutor's office is completely fictional and I have no idea where that would have been (or what it'd looked like) in reality, but it seemed like the right area of town at least.


	15. Ill met by moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2.1.60

“You must have agreed on some kind of signal. You wouldn’t just expect him to blindly barge in here. You’re smarter than that.“  
Phryne’s mind was reeling. A part of her desperately wished she had been as clever as Everett seemed to assume. The majority of her mind, however, was occupied by trying to work out how to use his assumption to her advantage. Of course it had taken them all but five seconds to find her after Everett had rightly deducted that the only reason Jack Robinson would show up just outside of his office in the middle of the night, swearing like a sailor, would be because she was inside.  
“Do you really think I would let you use me to lure Jack into a trap?“ she asked her voice dripping with contempt.  
The barrel of her own revolver was pushed rather painfully into her ribs.  
“Do it or you’re dead.“ the barrister threatened.  
“If he hears a shot Jack will be up here before you can count to three and he’ll find you with a smoking gun in your hand.“ she hissed.  
“There’s only three of them“ one of Everett’s crony’s sneered.  
“He’s right, Miss Fisher,“ Her capturer almost purred into her ear, “if you don’t cooperate you and your Jack will both end up dead in this room, together with those two boys he brought along with him.“  
“And what will you do if I do it?“ she asked.  
Everett smiled almost jovially.  
“That will of course depend on what that signal will make him do.“ he said. “If he goes back home, no harm will come to him tonight, if he barges in here... Well, I’d point to the fact that we’ve handled this operation with as little violence as humanly possible so far. I don’t like to make a mess and corpses are usually a lot more trouble than they’re worth. But I’m also not stupid enough to believe I could bribe Jack Robinson to forget he’s ever seen us here.“ His face turned dead serious.  
“You might safe the life of those two boys, though Miss Fisher, and maybe, just maybe your own and his, if you can make him leave.“  
Phryne swallowed hard. She knew there was no way in hell Jack would leave her behind, even if they had such a signal and she feared Everett knew that, too. But she couldn’t see another option and at least it meant she could get some message to Jack.  
“There is a codeword.“ she whispered feigning defeat. “I need to flash the torch out of the window.“  
Everett smiled again.  
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it. What’s the word?“

“Is that Morse code?“ Constable Ewbank asked incredulously.  
Jack didn’t bother confirming it. He already had his notebook out scribbling down the letters. Bless those boys who’ve never been to war, was a wayward thought whizzing through his mind. He had already missed the first two or three letters, but the word was still easily enough to recognise. Jack’s jaw clenched. The faces of his constables were still masks of confusion.  
“Shepherd’s pie?“ Ewbank asked.  
“Mrs Stanley hates Shepherd’s pie.“ the Inspector said grimly.  
Right now he didn’t care that that wasn’t an explanation for anything unless one was privy to their personal history. There was no time for explanations. His thoughts were racing. His heart was going a million miles an hour, but his mind was clear and sharp as a razor, considering and disregarding possibilities as fast as it could. Unfortunately the message gave him not much information other than Phryne was caught and probably held at gunpoint. At least she had somehow tricked her captors into letting her send that message. Meaning they knew he and his men were here outside.  
“Which window did the light come from?“ he asked to assure himself.  
“That one, second from the right.“ Constable Holderness immediately supplied.  
Jack nodded.  
“We need to move outside their line of sight. First we’ll be leaving the alley the same way we’ve come so they don’t get suspicious.“ he ordered and with a last grim look at the window he marched off.  
The two constables exchanged a confused glance, but followed their superior officer without hesitation. As soon as they reached Littel Lonsdale Street Jack stopped and turned around.  
“Ewbank, do you think you can manage to get to LaTrobe to the front entrance without being seen from that window?“  
The younger man shot a look down the alley and up to the window in question.  
“I think so, Sir.“ he confirmed.  
“Good.“ Jack nodded. “Go on the front. Find a telefone, call Russell Street for reinforcements, they’re closest. Tell them to send enough men to raid the building.  
“There’ll be a night guard; Stay with him and don’t turn your back on him, we don’t know if he can be trusted. Make sure no one leaves the building that way. But be careful, they’re probably armed. If you’re overrun, don’t play the hero, understood?“  
Ewbank nodded sharply in confirmation and darted down the alley as fast as he could pressed to the side of the houses.  
“What about us, Sir?“ Holderness asked as they watched Ewbank disappear around the corner.  
“We head for the back entrance where you wait for backup. Same orders: don’t let them see you, don't let anyone out, but be careful and don’t do anything stupid. If they get away we can catch them tomorrow, it’s not worth risking your life for. When reinforcements arrive, storm the building as quietly as possible.“ Jack ordered.  
The young man nodded, a determined look on his face.  
“What about you, Sir?“ he barely dared to ask.  
Jack’s face took on a steely expression.  
“I’m going in.“

“It worked, they’re leaving.“ The younger of the two henchmen that was overseeing the goings on down on the street, reported with audible relieve.  
In the light from the streetlamp Phryne recognised some of his features. Family resemblance only allowed one conclusion: this was Robin Owen’s brother Wren. Everett moved over to see for himself. He gave Phryne a suspicious look, but seemed to accept that the threat had passed for now. Not for a moment did he lower her gun on her,  
“Why Shepherd’s Pie?“ he asked.  
Phryne rolled her eyes.  
“Do you really think you have time for a long story?“ she asked with as much bravado as she could muster.  
She could probably come up with one, if she was pressed, but she really rather wanted to focus on getting herself out of this situation.  
“He might be gone now, but if I don’t meet him within an hour, he’ll be right back.“  
Everett’s mouth formed a small smile.  
“You’re right of course Miss Fisher. Time enough to get done what we came here to do and be on our way. I’ll decide later what we shall do with you. As soon as I have some peace and quiet.“

It wasn’t an ideal plan, going into a building full of possibly armed suspects alone, but he hadn’t brought enough men for a raid and he needed the entries guarded. At least Russell Street was just around the corner and the lads shouldn’t be more than five minutes behind him. As he snuck though the dark corridors Jack tried very hard not to think about just how much could happen in five minutes.

Miss Fisher contemplated her options. They were three on one, for the moment at least. Oliver held her revolver to her chest and his goon had another weapon, which he had returned to the waistband of his trousers after she had been subdued. Now he just leered at her, his arms crossed. Wren Owen, was going through the drawers she had just opened. Phryne dismissed him as a no threat seeing as he was shaking like a leave and seemed unarmed. She also noted that the goon kept his eyes on him as much as on her, throwing him evil glances now and then.  
Unfortunately she was wearing her black trousers as she was wont for a break in, which meant she didn’t have her dagger handy. Oliver Everett kept her gun aimed at her and didn’t even blink.  
“Behind the Sanderson files.“ he instructed Owen calmly.  
“You stored the prove of your own corruption among the files of a corruption case? Clever.“ Phryne observed. “If anyone finds it they’ll assume it’s part of Sanderson’s doings. Unless their looking very closely.“  
Oliver smiled charmingly.  
“That’s very kind of you to recognise Miss Fisher.“  
“But then of course your whole operation was very clever.“ she continued, desperately trying to give Jack more time to do, whatever he planned on doing.  
“You were the prosecutor in the Lydia Andrews case, did she give you the idea?“  
Everett’s smile widened.  
“You know, she did.“ he confirmed conversationally. “Her case showed me that it was surprisingly easy to pull off. Of course we needed to improve on a few things. Dead bodies always draw so much attention and you had destroyed her lovely transfer site. Not to mention the utterly unnecessary involvement of backyard abortionists. Things always get ugly if you involve amateurs.“  
“It was all admirably organised.“ she flattered him, hoping he would keep talking, maybe get distracted so she could reach for something on the desk. He was a barrister after all, there had to be some part of him that enjoyed hearing himself talk. Unfortunately it seemed Everett, too, was rather good at compartmentalising and only a small smirk signalled the recognition of her compliment.  
“Hurry up.“ he ordered Owen, without taking his eyes off Phryne.  
“What are your plans with me then?“ she tried again, “Dead bodies always draw so much attention.“ she turned his words against him.  
He seemed to consider that for a moment.  
“True, but sometimes needs must, Miss Fisher.“ he replied with a false joviality that made Phryne want to retch.  
That moment a sharp gasp came from behind the desk. Wren Owen had become distracted by a look out of the window and had frozen.  
“There’s a shitload o’coppers cummin' for us.“ he whispered, abandoning any refinement he might have had before, his panic reverting him to purest Collingwood street speak.  
Before any of them could react the unmistakable sound of a door being kicked down echoed through the building.  
That did the tick. All three men spun around in shock, staring at the door. Phryne didn’t waste the opportunity and reached for the telephone set.

When Jack heard the crash of the door his first thought was that the response time of Russell Street was impressive, even given the short distance. His second thought was the worry that the noise would prompt the people holding Phryne captive to do something stupid. There wasn‘t time for a third thought. Seconds after the constables downstairs had broken down the door, a second bang sounded through the night. Jacks feet started running towards the noise before his mind supplied the information that it hadn’t been a gunshot. He didn’t stop. He was storming through an open office door and pulled his gun out while approaching the second under which he could make out the faint light of a torch. He tore it open and barged in, ready to shoot anyone who moved. He nearly dropped his gun at the scene that awaited him.

The relieve that flooded him at the familiar sight of Phryne Fisher holding a criminal in check almost made his muscles give out. She stood over Oliver Everett, a groaning pile on the floor, holding the telephone in one hand, the other securely wrapped around her little golden revolver glittering triumphantly in the light coming through the window. She pointed it at a second man, standing by the window, both hands in the air. The handle of a gun clearly visible in his waistband.  
“You’re delightfully early, Inspector.“ she quipped, trying to sound less shaken than she felt.  
“You might want to relieve this gentleman of his pistol.“ she advised, “I believe Mr Everett can wait for the fellows from downstairs.“  
Jack didn’t even have it in him to nod at this stage. Wordlessly he walked over and pulled the gun from the man’s trousers and moved it to his own waistband. While he handcuffed him he peripherally noticed the sound of Phryne placing the telephone back on the table. He only snapped back to full attention at the shout from the door he had just barged through:  
“Police! Nobody move!“  
At the same time the headlight flickered on and for a second Jack blinked blinded, before he could take in the new arrivals. A group of six uniformed officers, armed and ready for a fight had flooded into the room. At the very front was Constable Holderness brandishing his truncheon and a determined expression that had Jack want to laugh and cry in equal measures. If he didn’t get shot before, this boy would make an excellent officer one day.  
“It’s all right Constable,“ he said surprising himself with his ability to speak with calm authority, “the situation is under control.“  
Holderness visibly let go of the breath he’d been holding and straightened up. Jack put down his own gun and took control of the new situation. He was a little taken aback that there was no senior officer among the constables. In his experience sending a group of armed officers out on a raid without leadership was a risky move.  
“Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, City South.“ he stated audibly. “Secure and arrest these men and take them to the station.“ he ordered in a way that didn’t suffer any opposition.  
“On what charges?“ one of the Russell Street constables was brave enough to ask.  
Still he thought it better to add a quick „Sir.“ when he saw the look on Jack’s face.  
“Running a cocaine ring.“ Phryne suggested. “And I think you’ll find that Mr Owen is holding on to the evidence.“  
Only now did Jack notice the very pale young man who was sitting with his knees pressed to his chest under the window behind the desk, clutching a manila folder in both hands. Phryne strolled over to him, careful to not point her gun directly at him.  
“I’ll take that.“ she said gently and pried the folder from his shaking hands without much resistance.  
“And you’ll be handing it to me, Miss Fisher.“ Jack reminded her sternly, holding out his hand.  
“Of course, Inspector.“ she replied innocently and placed it daintily on his palm.  
“Right.“ Jack turned back to the constable who had spoken before. He had hurled a groaning Oliver Everett to his feet and handcuffed him securely.  
“I suppose the building is secured?“ Jacke demanded.  
The man straightened up.  
“Yes Sir.“  
“Good man. Take them to the station and alert the officer in charge of the drug cartel investigation. Secure this office and put guards on it. And someone relieve Ewbank from the front desk.“ Jack gave orders in quick sequence, “Maybe also call a doctor, just to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.“  
The officers nodded and started to fan out to execute his instructions.

“Damnit Phryne!“  
Only when every one of their suspect was on their way to the police station and most of the officers had dispersed to gather the evidence and secure Everett’s office Jack allowed himself to give vent to his feelings. He was with her before she could even open her mouth, engulfing her in a bone crushing hug.  
“Damnit Phryne.“ he muttered into her neck.  
Phryne snaked her arms around his back and returned his embrace as well as she could, being held in the vice of his arms.  
“I didn’t think he would come by tonight, Jack.“ she whispered.  
He nodded mutely, acknowledging her words, as close to an apology as she would ever get. But he was not ready to let go of her and hash out the whole operation just yet. For the moment it was enough to know that she was alright.


	16. Shine comforts from the east

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.2.432

They didn’t talk during the walk to Russell Street. They both new exactly what the other was going to say in the fight that was going to happen. Jack was going to reproach her for sneaking out without telling him, for being reckless and getting in a situation where he had to yet again compromise his integrity, not to mention one in which he was going out of his mind with worry for her. She would counter that it was exactly his integrity she had been trying to protect by not telling him, knowing full well he couldn’t look the other way if he knew she was about to break into the Crown Prosecutor’s office. She would point out that she had after all left him a message and it hadn’t initially been reckless at all, since there had been no indication that Everett was going to show up to destroy the evidence in that night, but what stroke of luck she had been there before he had had the chance, and they needed that evidence and really she could look after herself, as she had proven yet again.  
They both knew that was how the conversation was going to go and that they would have it eventually, most likely at the top of their lungs, and ideally in a more intimate setting. So for the moment they walked in silence, their hands tightly interlocked, neither of them willing to break the contact that assured them the other was alive and well, and equally grateful they both were.

As they entered the police station Jack was still more than unwilling to let go of her hand. But he would need his hands, to fill out the mountain of paperwork that was coming his way as inevitable as a continental drift. For the moment he was still the highest ranking officer on the scene, since no one ranking higher than a Senior Constable was on duty at City Central at this hour of the night. It turned out no one had been called in either yet, since Constable Ewbank had mentioned his name when he had called for backup, inadvertently putting him in charge of the unplanned raid.  
So he repeated his order to one of the constables to call in whoever was leading the cocaine ring investigation. Further he instructed the officers to put Everett and Owen into separate interview rooms and the third man, Frank was his name, into a cell, where they were to wait for the officer in charge to make an appearance. No one was to talk to any of them and they were to be guarded at all time by two officers.  
The next steps were to inform the Chief Prosecutor and the Commissioner and, on Miss Fisher's prompting, he also send a couple of officers out to arrest Mrs Everett who, as Phryne assured him, had been in on the whole operation. The rest was administrative work, gathering statements of everyone involved in the raid and from Jack's constables about what had happened in the lane before.  
It was almost dawn by the time a very sleepy and completely stunned Detective Inspector Kahn arrived at the station to take charge of 'his' investigation and agreed to let the City South officers and Miss Fisher go home. They would have to come back to give their official statements in addition to the preliminary ones later that day, perhaps on Monday.  
The sun was rising by the time Jack and Phryne arrived back at the Stanley Estate. It had finally cleared up after days of drizzle and the morning was crisp, cool and clear. Jack felt like he had been run over by milk cart, possibly a lorry. The way Phryne clung to his arm indicated she was similarly exhausted. Their fight would have to wait another few hours, at least until they had had some sleep.

They were woken, much too early, by Mrs Collins, manoeuvring a breakfast tray around her belly and into the bedroom. Had she been fully awake, Phryne would have marvelled at how comfortable her companion had become with the sight of the Inspector in her Mistress' bed. Hugh didn’t do half as well and he hadn’t even seen the two of them together like this.  
“I’m so sorry, to disturb you Inspector, but you’ll be expected at the station in an hour and a half.“ Dot said quietly.  
Jack groaned.  
“I thought I told them I wouldn’t be in until the afternoon today.“ he muttered.  
“You did, but it’s already more than an hour past noon.“ Dot indicated gently.  
Jack let out a heartfelt sigh.  
“Thank you, Mrs Collins.“ he resigned himself to his fate.  
Dot nodded and placed the tray on the bedside table.

“Are you coming along, or do you want to sleep more?“ he asked Phryne, who had buried her face in the pillows to protect herself from the onslaught of daylight Dot had let in, when she had pulled back the curtains before leaving.  
“Is there coffee on that tray?“ was her muffled reply.  
Jack sniffled at one of the steaming pots.  
“Yes.“ he confirmed. “And toast.“  
Phryne’s sigh echoed Jack’s when she pushed herself grudgingly in an upright position.  
“We still have a murderer to catch after all.“ she conceded.  
“Are you’re going to tell me how you figured out Everett ran the cocaine ring?“ Jack asked while handed her a cup of coffee.  
“You didn‘t suspect him?“ Phryne asked, genuinely surprised.  
He shook his head.  
“Not a moment.“ he admitted.  
It was almost worth the dent to his professional pride to see her beam at him with utter delight at her own cleverness.  
“Well,“ she said, drawing the moment of triumph out just a little longer, “I had the first suspicion when Mr Owen the elder warned Mr Owen the younger. Wren Owen was just an office clerk, even if he was smarter than anyone gave him credit for, he simply shouldn’t have had access to the kind of information he passed on to his brother. He would have needed to have seen the file and Everett wouldn’t have been so negligent for that to happen. He tried to make us believe Wren could have overheard him talk to his boss, but that just didn’t add up either. A conversation like that wouldn’t have happened in a venue were anyone could have been listening in. Not unless you wanted them to.“  
“So you had a suspicion, but it could have been anyone in the Prosecutor’s office.“ Jack noted.  
Phryne nodded.  
“Well, not everyone, but there were several possible candidates, true.“ she admitted.  
“Actually it was the meeting with Tilly that convinced me.“ she explained, “You see that 'tiff' with the charity she was running was about who should be in charge of the money raised. Aunt P told me the board was thinking of appointing someone new to do it and Tilly wouldn’t hear of it. I kept wondering why it mattered so much to her, it seemed odd to make such a fuss about a job that is truly rather tedious, no matter how sincere your intentions are. I think that was how they were laundering the money, by letting it run through the charity. An anonymous donation here, an unexpected expense there. But to do that Tilly had to be the one in sole control of the bookkeeping so no one would notice. I considered trying to get to her ledger, but that would have only proved the money laundering, not the origin of the money. And even that might be difficult to prove, my guess is they were extremely careful.“  
“And of course you thought he’d keep proof of his cocaine ring in his office.“ Jack threw in somewhat disbelieving.  
“The entire operation was based on being hidden in plain sight.“ she shrugged, “He ran it under all of our noses. That was why he never wanted to get promoted, because in his position he had access to all the right people and sources. He could influence the police investigation, and he could recruit all the best people that he came in contact with through his job. He was bold enough to send someone from his own office to the police station to tip off Robin, so yes, why not keep the paperwork of his illegal dealings right next to the ones of his legal ones?“  
“None of that is anywhere near even a proper suspicion, though.“ he pointed out, as he emptied his cup and climbed out of the bed, heading for the bathroom. Phryne grinned and continued to sip her coffee.  
“True, but I remembered that Tilly also had really good contacts to an importer from India. Well, I say remember, she kept banging on about it, how this childhood friend of hers has become one of the richest man in India, and even the viceroy listens to his advice, and do you know he is now importing to Australia.“  
She could hear Jack chuckle through the open bathroom door at her imitation of Mrs Everett’s society chatter.  
“I can‘t remember the name of the company right now, but I looked them up yesterday afternoon. They’re importing tea and sugar, officially anyway.“  
Jack re-emerged, now washed, shaven and freshly pomaded, though still in his pyjama bottoms.  
“Still no solid evidence, Miss Fisher.“ he stated as he started to dress.  
Phryne finished her coffee and with another regretful sigh slipped out of bed, too.  
“No, but a lot of suspicious circumstances and possible opportunities. That’s why I needed to get into Oliver’s office, to get evidence.“ she explained primly.  
“Did it ever occur to you to tell me about your suspicion?“ Jack asked.  
He had his back to her, standing in front of the wardrobe, buttoning up his shirt. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew him well enough by now to notice the stiffness of his posture and the way he pulled his shoulders up just a little more than usual.  
“Of course it did, silly,“ she said tenderly, “but you worked with him and you liked him. I didn’t want to put you through that again, in case I was wrong. I was hoping I was wrong.“ she added quietly.  
For a moment neither of them said a word. Jack didn’t turn around, so it was difficult for Phryne to gauge his reaction. She knew he understood what she was referring to. It was always difficult having to come to deal with a corrupt official. The last time it had been Jack’s mentor and former father-in-law, a man he had been close to and looked up to and his betrayal had hurt Jack deeply. His relationship with Oliver Everett had never been that close, but there was no doubt in her mind that the situation must remind him of Sanderson. It was yet another betrayal of someone he had trusted.  
“You always go on about how you don’t need me to protect you.“ Jack said finally.  
If he sounded a little strangled he was trying his best to hide it.  
“What makes you think I need you to protect me?“  
Phryne hesitated for a moment.  
“You don’t.“ she admitted.  
She wasn’t quite sure what to say more than that. She wouldn’t appoligize for wanting to spare him as much as she could, even if he didn’t need her to. But she had told him off often enough for saying the fact that she didn’t need his protection didn’t mean he wouldn’t want to protect her, so she couldn’t possibly tell him that either. So she kept quiet. Jack finished buttoning up his shirt and finally turned around to face her. He observed her face for a long moment, not letting on what he red in it.  
“Not so much fun when the shoe’s on the other foot, is it?“ he said at long last.  
He sounded thoughtfull, but she couldn’t miss the tiny smirk hidden in the corner of his mouth. Least of all because she was looking for it.  
“Let’s say I won’t be making a habbit of it.“ she replied cheekily.  
He playfully roled his eyes at her while he grabbed his trousers.  
“Get dressed, Phryne. We’ll be late.“

Even if she would never let Jack know it, Phryne had to admit to herself that being summoned to the Chief Commissioner was somewhat reminiscent of being ordered to the headmistress' office, an experience she had made all too often in her few years in a fancy school in England. The summon had apparently been issued in the early hours of the morning, following the chaos of the night’s arrests. The order was waiting for them as soon as they arrived at City South. It wasn’t something that came completely unexpected, given what had happened. This was, however, the first time a Commissioner had demanded to see not just Jack, but her, too, and while he didn’t really have the authority to summon her, it would have felt wrong to let Jack face his superiors’ wrath alone. After all it was partly her fault that he had to meet Commissioner Wolfe this time. If the word fault was at all applicable in this situation, which she didn’t think it was.  
In any case the result was that they were both sitting on chairs that were even more uncomfortable than the visitor chair in Jack’s office, like naughty children, while Wolfe stared down at them with a deep furrow in his brow. An opened newspaper lay in front of him on the desk, clearly showing a picture of Oliver Everett and his wife, probably taken at some function. A smaller picture was a reprint of a photo of Jack and Phryne that had appeared in the papers a few days earlier. Another one of Frederick Burn’s masterpieces. Jack couldn’t help wondering just how they had gotten wind of the whole affaire so quickly. Wolfe cleared his throat.  
“You’ll be glad to know that Mrs Everett has given a detailed confession after her arrest this morning.“ he told them.  
Phryne raised an eyebrow.  
“I’m guessing she blamed it all on her husband.“ she assumed.  
“Actually no,“ Wolfe refuted, “she seems rather proud of her own part in it actually. She confessed to being in charge of the money for the operation and providing the necessary connections overseas. Her husband apparently organised things over here. Oliver of course hasn’t said a word.“  
The Commissioner smiled dryly.  
“I suppose he’s too aware that anything he says will be used against him in court. Luckily his henchmen have been more talkative, especially Mr Owen.“  
“Oliver blackmailed him, didn't he?“ Phryne asked tersely.  
Jack had to admit he had drawn a similar conclusion when he had seen the young man being arrested.  
“That's what he claims.“ Wolfe confirmed, “So far it appears that at least he wasn't involved in any of Everett’s doings until a few days ago, but coercion will be difficult to prove, given he refuses to say what Oliver had on him.“  
Jack and Phryne exchanged a look and Jack got the distinct impression that Wren Owen would suddenly find himself with one of the best defence councils money could buy, to get both him and his brother safely out of this affair. A moment of silence followed as all three contemplated the next step in this.  
“One Mayor, one Chief Commissioner and now one Prosecutor of the Crown,“ Wolfe said finally, “you two have accumulated quite the list.“  
“Surely that’s a good thing.“ Phryne replied, refusing to be intimidated.  
Jack’s hand twitched in an effort to keep himself from putting it on hers to signal her to keep quiet. If she noticed she ignored it.  
“That depends very much on the way you look at it.“ Wolfe replied unfazed, “And the way many people are looking at it is that somehow it’s always the two of you uncovering these things. The only upside is that Detective Inspector Robinson has never gained any advancement from any of those arrests, otherwise it would seem seriously suspicious.“  
Phryne gasped.  
“Are you saying that being a good policeman and exposing corruption is actually hurting his own career?“ she asked incredulous.  
Now Jack did grab her hand.  
“Phryne,“  
Wolfe merely raised an eyebrow  
“You can’t expect to come out clean and shiny, if you go digging in the dirt, Miss Fisher.“ he noted, “And it would certainly help his career, if he would make more of these arrests based on proper police work, not on having to rush in to come to your aid. And don't tell me that's not what he's doing.” he cut her off as she opened her mouth to protest.  
He sighed deeply.  
“And then there is of course the little matter that you broke into the Crown Prosecutor’s office. Which is still a crime, Miss Fisher, no matter your motivations or the results of your break in. I know you don’t care much for rules and procedure, but they’re there for a reason.“ he anticipated her reply again in a way that deeply impressed Jack.  
“That reason is the protection of innocents from wrongful harassment and prosecution, and while they may occasionally protect the guilty as well, that is a price I am willing to pay, Miss Fisher. The only way rules can be fair and useful is if they apply to everyone.“ Wolfe took a deep breath.  
“Having said that, I can inform you that Mr Rodgers has decided not to press charges. Instead he insists he had hired you to investigate Mr Everett and you therefore had every right to be on the premise in the middle of the night. He’ll probably ask you to meet him within the next week to fully inform you about the arrangements you have made and the exact legal implications. His advice is not to give an official statement until after that meeting.“  
It was all Phryne could do to keep a solemn expression and keep a delighted grin from her face as she nodded, in all appearance contrite but for her eyes sparkling. If the commissioner noticed it, he didn’t comment on it.  
“Apart from that I’ll expect both of you to keep a mile distance to this case now. It’s tangled up enough as it is and we can’t afford a single mistake.“ he impressed on them, “Even though between the documents found in Everett’s office, our witnesses, the accounts of the hospital fund Mrs Everett oversaw and the evidence Inspector Kahn uncovered during his raid at Poonah Imports yesterday afternoon, we should have enough. If we don‘t make any mistakes.“  
Jack and Phryne exchanged a look.  
“So that’s why he panicked and decided to come to his office last night.“ she observed.  
Wolfe nodded curtly.  
“Jack, there will most likely be an enquiry in most of the cases Everett tried over the last years, you know the proceedings.“ he continued “I’m afraid we’ll have to go through that whole tedious procedure again.“  
The commissioner and the Inspector shared a look of two men long suffering. After the arrest of George Sanderson the police force had already reopened all of the cases he had supervised five years prior to his arrest, for revision purposes. The thought of having to go through that whole procedure again draw deep sighs from both men.  
Wolfe cleared his throat.  
“That will be all for the moment. I believe you still have a murderer to catch. When you have, Jack, I think we should take a moment and discuss that deferral of your career.“  
For a moment Phryne wondered, if it was a special skill taught at the police academy, that smile that really wasn’t one. But then Wolfe rose from his seat, prompting them to do the same.  
“I look forward to seeing you tonight, Inspector, Miss Fisher.“ he said formally, clearly dismissing them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poonah (Pune since 1978) is a city in western India (9th largest city in the country). Back in its early days Badminton was known as Poona, after the town. The company is completely fictional and named after the city for extremely convoluted reasons
> 
> Just in case it wasn't clear: City Central and Russell Street in my mind are the same, since Russell Street isn't the official name of the station. I know that's probably wrong, given Russell Street was actually the police headquarters, but I'm giving Melbourne a lot less police stations than it has nowadays, so forgive a little simplification.


	17. True as steel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2.1.197

At their return to the station Hugh and Dot were waiting for them. Dot had accompanied the detectives to City South earlier to bring her husband a late lunch. Since he hadn’t been out and about last night Hugh had had to show up at work at the regular hour. She had noticed he was a little off, despite trying to put on a cheerful face. So she had decided to stick around under the pretence of waiting for Miss Fisher’s return in case she had any chores for her to run before the party in the evening. If she was being perfectly honest with herself, she was also a little glad to be outside of Mrs Stanley’s reach for a while. The old lady had been keeping her busy the last days when she had launched into the preparations all over again in an attempt to distract herself from the murder. Now that more and more guests were arriving she was so obtrusively cheerful it made Dot wince.  
The news of Miss Fisher's nightly adventure had fortunately not reached Mrs Stanley yet, she could only imagine what that would do to the old Lady's peace of mind. Dot herself had been rather unsettled when she had woken up this morning to find out that her Mistress had been in potentially mortal danger without her even knowing. She had almost worked herself into a state until Mr Butler had taken her by the shoulders and had, in the gentle but firm way he had, assured her Miss Fisher was alive and well and the Inspector had been looking out for her. She had calmed down after that, knowing Miss Phryne would be alright while she and the Inspector were working together, and if she thought about it she was rather glad she had gotten to sleep the night. She only worried about when Mrs Stanley would find out. For the moment she definitely preferred a slightly disgruntled Hugh for company, even though he was clearly upset about something and Dot wasn’t entirely sure about what.

The truth was that Hugh wasn’t too sure himself, which only vexed him more. He was somewhere between miffed that the Inspector hadn’t called on him last night, and heartedly glad he had been allowed to stay in his bed. He hadn’t been on duty and it was only natural that Inspector Robinson would first call on the constables at the station, and he couldn’t be mad about not having been up and chasing crims all night, but he felt he would have deserved at least to know about what was going on, especially since he had quite literally slept in the same house. And still he had only heard about last nights adventures when he had arrived at the station and had to suffer through no small amount of chaffing by the other officers about the DI’s pet being kept out of the loop.  
It stung, so he might have looked a tiny bit put out when his superior entered City South with Miss Fisher on his arm.  
“We had another telegram from Darwin this morning, Sir.“ he reported, doing what he could to sound neutral and not let his upset show. “A reply to our enquiry about Mr Tillyard‘s widow.“  
Jack took the paper from him and scanned it quickly. Without a word he handed it to his partner.

**to: Sr. Det. Insp. J. Robinson, VIC Police**   
**from: Sg. L. Wilson, NT Police**   
**ref: enquiry Mrs Stephen Tillyard**   
**Mrs Victoria Tillyard nee Bronfen born Broon 1876 married Tillyard 1894 STOP No record STOP current address unknown presumably left state STOP**

“Victoria Bronfen.“ Phryne breathed.  
Jack nodded. “Your aunt‘s housekeeper has some explaining to do.“  
Phryne rolled her eyes.  
“I could have stayed in bed.“ she muttered.  
“Collins, please call Mrs Stanley’s and send someone to pick up Mrs Bronfen.“ he ordered.  
“Anything else, Constable?“ Jack inquired.  
Hugh shook his head.  
“Just reports from last nights raid for you to sign, Sir.“ he replied.  
Jack nodded.  
“Send them to Russell Street, to Inspector Kahn, I’m not to be anywhere near that investigation. Orders from the Commission.“  
He turned to Phryne.  
“Would you go ahead to my office, I need a word with Hugh.“ he said quietly.  
His partner’s eyes flickered between the two men and to Dot for a second, before she, uncharacteristically, did as he asked, not without sending Hugh a bright smile.

“Have you got anything to say to me Collins.“ Jack inquired nonchalantly as soon as he heard his office door shut behind her.  
Dot was reminded of just how well Inspector Robinson knew her husband. It was after all one thing for her as his wife to notice something was up, but she thought he had done a good job pretending he was alright. Yet it hadn‘t fooled the Inspector for a moment. She was tempted to get up and take her place by her husband’s side, but she remained in the background, not wanting to interrupt what ever the two men needed to sort out among themselves, but unwilling to leave Hugh alone with his boss as well.  
Hugh’s eyes were fixed on the paperwork in his hands but his ears were glowing.  
“No Sir.“ he stated none the less.  
Jack waited a moment, but his Constable refused to look up.  
“Sulking isn’t an attitude suitable for a Senior Constable, Collins.“ he prodded.  
“I’m not... Sir.“ Hugh sputtered.  
A pointed look from his superior shut him up. Jack tried hard to hide his amusement. As far has Collins had come in the last years, it was sometimes good to see he could still rattle the lad a little.  
“You’re wondering why I didn’t call on you for that spontaneous raid last night.“ Jack hazarded a guess.  
Hugh blushed furiously, still refusing to look up.  
“It’s not my place to question your decisions, Sir.“ he said stubbornly.  
“You’re right it isn’t,“ the Inspector agreed, “and still, as a friend of Miss Fisher’s and mine, you can’t help feeling snubbed that I left you behind.“ Jack added.  
Hugh eyes flew up.  
“A friend, Sir?“ he whispered utterly shocked.  
Jack had to refrain from rolling his eyes.  
“We have both risked our lives and our careers for each other and I was witness to your marriage, Hugh, surely that qualifies me as a friend.“ he pointed out.  
Hugh looked utterly stunned.  
“Sir, I...“ he stammered.  
“I didn’t call on you last night, because as a friend, I felt you deserved to sleep and stay with your wife undisturbed.”  
It wasn‘t a good excuse or even explanation. And moreover it only was partially true. The full truth was that Jack hadn't known what he had been heading into and he had had enough to do worrying about Miss Fisher. It was unprofessional at best and patronising at worst. But the truth was, he worried about Hugh. His eyes almost involuntarily flickered to Dot at the thought, who was still waiting, and no doubt listening with bated breath, next to the telephone. The truth he had only gradually and with great embarrassment realised, was that this worry about Hugh grew proportionally to Dot’s belly. Policing was a dangerous job and the thought that the boy would be a father soon put Jack’s teeth on edge. He felt unaccountably responsible for Hugh and the thought of having to tell Dorothy that he had lost him was one too horrifying to face. At the same time he was fully aware that he was being unfair to his Constable. Hugh had grown into a capable officer and one he could rely on to have his back, much more so than the wet boy he had taken with him last night. Just like Phryne, Hugh could look after himself, and unlike with Phryne it wasn’t Jack’s place to worry about the lad. It was one of the points on Jack’s list of issues he needed to get a grip on, ideally without bothering anyone else, but the sight of the young couple in front of him wasn’t making it any easier.  
“You’re right, Collins,“ he admitted, “I should have talked to you, and to you Mrs Collins, too, and I apologise. As Miss Fisher's friends you deserved that.“  
He threw another look at Dot who caught his eyes and held them for a moment. It was a look he had come to know quite well over the last two years. She was trying to work something out and he had the uneasy feeling she was getting far closer to the truth than he was comfortable with.  
“But.” Jack added seriously, “as a constable of this station you also deserve your nights sleep and when your superior decides not to call you in at night that's a reason to be glad, not put out, understood?”  
Hugh was still staring at him incredulously, apparently unable to formulate a coherent answer, but he nodded.  
“Are you good then?“ Jack asked, not entirely able to banish a smirk from the corner of his mouth at the Constables stunned face.  
Hugh nodded enthusiastically. He seemed to awake from his reverie and a big happy smile spread over his face.  
“Yes, Sir.“ he said sincerely. „And thank you, Sir.“  
Jack nodded and straightened up to head towards his office.  
“Bring in Mrs Bronfen, Collins.“ he reminded Hugh over his shoulder.  
„Yes Sir.“ came the prompt answer.  
When the door had closed behind the Inspector Dot stepped forward to slide next to her husband.  
“You really are daft sometimes Hugh Collins.“ she said tenderly.  
Hugh was still a little over the moon about what he had just been told and just stared at her in confusion. Dot laughed.  
“He worries about you, silly. Don’t you dare be mad at him for that.“

Phryne had to admit to herself that she hadn’t paid much attention to Mrs Bronfen so far. She normally made a point of at least knowing her aunt‘s staff by name, but with housekeepers it never seemed to be worth the effort, considering Aunt Prudence usually changed them almost as often as Phryne changed her outfit. Mrs Bronfen had only been in the house a few months, setting her arrival shortly after Phryne’s return from England. Now, however, she regarded the woman with the utmost interest and focus.  
Victoria Bronfen, or Tillyard as it had turned out, was a small woman in her fifties. She was neat and soberly dressed, as Mrs Stanley demanded from her staff. She watched the two detectives with trepidation, while she waited for an explanation as to why she had been hauled into the station. Still, she sat very straight and held her head high. Jack had told Phryne about his altercation with her about interviewing the maids two days ago, so she deduced that the housekeeper either took her job very seriously, not something that could be ruled out entirely in someone who worked for Aunt P, or she had tried to sabotage the investigation. Currently both options seemed equally likely.  
“You told the police you didn’t know Donny before you started working for my aunt.“ Phryne started almost conversationally.  
“I didn’t.“ the housekeeper replied sternly.  
“So it’s a mere coincident that you started working in the same household as your late husbands cousin, Mrs Bronfen? Or is it Mrs Tillyard?“ Miss Fisher asked sharply.  
Mrs Bronfen did not falter.  
“I returned to my maiden name when I left Darwin. It made it easier to leave.“ she said, “And it was a coincidence. I admit I came to Melbourne, knowing Stephen had family here and I did, in time, intend to look for them, but I hadn't made any plans. I didn’t know Donny, until he got engaged to Minnie, except as some friends of Robin’s, and Helen's beau, and I didn’t know he was my husband’s cousin until your aunt hired him last week.“ she declared, “I never even knew his full name before.“  
Phryne and Jack exchanged a look, weighing whether or not to believe her.  
“And I assume you also had no idea that, should Donny die a bachelor you’d inherit 7000 Pounds.“ Phryne guessed dryly.  
A sarcastic laugh escaped Mrs Bronfen’s tight mouth.  
“I seriously doubt Donny had 7000 pounds.“ she stated.  
“No, he didn’t,“ Jack confirmed, “but he stood to inherit them on his 25th birthday. Had he been married by then, his wife would have been his heir. Now that he’s died unmarried that money goes to you.“  
Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. For a moment she said nothing. Then she frowned.  
“Oh, dear and now you think I killed him for the money.“ she realised, “But I had no idea. I thought he didn’t have the money to buy his next meal. He slept in the garage more times than not before Mrs Stanley hired him and I heard him ask Mr Paterson for money more than once. I was even trying to help him. She wanted to sack him. I talked her out of it. I wouldn’t have killed him, even if I had known.“  
Another look passed between the two detectives.  
“Where were you the night of Mr Wardrop’s death, between ten and midnight?“ Jack asked, mostly to watch her say it.  
Hugh had interviewed her before to secure all alibis right at the beginning. He knew exactly what she had stated then, but he wanted to hear it directly from her, now that she was a suspect.  
“I already told your Constable.“ she complained, but complied: “I made the round through the house to check on all the doors and windows at half past nine and saw that Mrs Stanley didn’t require anything more. Then I had a cup of tea with cook and went to bed at quarter to eleven.“  
Jack checked his notes, not because he needed to, but to let her see he compared the two statements. Unfortunately they matched.  
“Did you notice anything on your round?“ Phryne asked. “Anything unusual?“  
The housekeeper gave her a look.  
“I didn’t see Donny, if that’s what you’re asking.“ she implied.  
Phryne shook her head.  
“But maybe you noticed something else. Like where everybody else was“ she prodded.  
Mrs Bronfen thought about it.  
“Joan and Minnie had gone to bed early. Derrington and Donny had left, too. Mary was still feeding the child, but she was gone when I returned to the kitchen. Helen was still there but went outside for a smoke, I think. I don’t know when she got back in, since we left the kitchen to take the tea in my office. I just told her to lock the door when she came back in. Which of course she didn’t. I found it unlocked in the morning. I didn’t notice anything about the house.“  
Jack nodded. “Thank you Mrs Bronfen, that’ll be all for now.“


	18. Some vile thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2.2.40

“I don’t think she did it.“ Phryne declared as she hopped on what they both thought of as 'her‘ corner of Jack’s desk.  
“She has a motive and no alibi.“ Jack stated taking his seat, like a normal person, behind his desk.  
“She does have an alibi for most of the time and Aunt P did say that she convinced her not to sack Donny. Why would she do that?“  
“To keep him around so she could kill him?“ Jack suggested.  
“It didn’t seem premeditated, taking the sword that just happened to be there.“ Miss Fisher pointed out  
“And if it was, that would mean she knew about the money.“ she added. “It’s strange how everybody claims not to have had any knowledge about Donny’s inheritance other than Ed Paterson.“  
“And even he could have thought his daughter might get it as the fiancée.“ Jack added.  
“But for him it would have been better to wait until after the wedding to kill him, just to be safe.“ Phryne noted.  
He had to agree.  
“If we assume they all told the truth that they didn’t know, that still leaves Minnie, Lionel and Helen with a motive.“ she kept spinning her thoughts further.  
“If it’s not money, it’s love?“ he asked with a tilt of his head that expressed how much he enjoyed watching her work it out.  
“Do you have a better idea?“ she challenged.  
He shook his head.  
“I just think we can’t completely rule out the money. Wouldn’t you have told Minnie if she was your daughter?“  
“If she was my daughter I’d never put her in that situation in the first place.“ she declared defiantly.  
“But you’re right, it would make sense for Paterson to tell his daughter why she has to marry. Except that would imply he admits that her opinion and feelings matters, which they clearly don't, at least to him.“ she huffed, “He just seems to me the type who just expects his daughter to accept his word as law and any kind of justification is utterly beneath him.“  
“To you your father should be as a god.“ Jack quoted wryly.  
Phryne wrinkled her nose in disgust.  
“I never liked Theseus“ she declared. “If they didn’t do it, I’ll find them a new position in a different town myself and make sure her father never finds her.“  
“I wouldn’t expect anything less of you.“ Jack replied with an all but invisible smile.  
She flashed him a grin before she returned her thoughts to the case.  
“His clothes still bother me. It doesn’t make sense he would take them off if he was with Mrs Bronfen or Ed, or even Lionel.“ she mused.  
Jack raised an eyebrow teasingly.  
“That might be the first time a man with not shirt on bothers you.“ he quipped.  
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Inspector. Sometimes that sight can get me extremely bothered.“ she smouldered, putting a suggestive emphasis on the last words.  
Jack bit his lip. He’d walked right into that one, hadn’t he? He forced his thoughts to return to the case, which took quite considerably more effort than he would ever admit to.  
“Mac said it’s likely a side effect of having taken cocaine.“ he pointed out.  
Phryne rolled her eyes, whether about his professionalism or his statement he wasn’t quite sure.  
“I know what Mac said, but really Jack, how many cocaine addicts have you encountered in your life?“  
“A few.“ he replied.  
“And how many of them tore off their clothes without good reason?“ she pushed on.  
Not many, he had to admit, indicating as much with the tilt of his head. She raised her eyebrows in a 'See?‘ gesture. Then suddenly her eyes widened. The sight of her sent a jolt down Jack’s spine. This was his third favourite expression on her face: the moment she had an epiphany, usually one that solved the case.  
Her next words confirmed what he already knew:  
“Oh Jack, we’ve been so blind.“  
Patiently he waited for her to share her insight. She didn’t disappoint:  
“Donny had taken cocaine when he was killed.“  
It took a second for Jack to click:  
“Owen hadn’t sold him any, because he couldn’t pay.“  
Her eyes sparkled triumphantly.  
“So who was the only other person in the house, Robin admitted to ever selling cocaine to?“

“We know you were with Donny the night he died.“ Phryne started. “He took cocaine that night and you’re the only person who could have given it to him.“  
Helen looked back at her defiantly.  
“Maybe he got it from Robin. They were mates.“ she said petulantly.  
“Except Mr Owen was at home by seven, as confirmed by his mother, two of his sisters and the neighbour.“ Jack stated dispassionately, “He didn’t leave again until nine in the company of two mates who testify he was with them until late.“  
“Besides,“ Phryne took over again, “Donny wasn’t Robin’s mate, he was his customer, wasn’t he? And Robin would never have sold him anything, because Donny was skint and couldn’t pay him and his supplier had very strong oppinions about that kind of thing.“  
Helen let out a slow breath.  
“Alright. Maybe I gave him some. He got... nervous when he couldn’t get any.“ she conceded.  
“I think you gave him a bit more than that, didn’t you Helen?“ Phryne probed.  
“It really bothered me that he wasn’t wearing his shirt. Hot flushes are an uncommon side effect of cocaine. Naturally my first instinct was that he’d been with someone and the only seriously options for that were Minnie and you. But Minnie never loved Donny and by all accounts he never loved her, which only leaves his former lover.“  
She let the sentence hang for a moment. The girl opposite her ground her teeth, but didn’t say anything so Miss Fisher continued.  
“Not only where you the only one who could have gotten him the drugs, you were also the only one who knew that Minnie and Lionel were planning to elope. Minnie had told you out of pity, because you were heartbroken by Donny leaving you. So you told him. You got him high, made him happy and told him his bride was about to leave him, hoping he would come back to you. Only he didn’t, did he?“  
Later Jack was sure it had been the pity in Phryne’s eyes that had broken Helen. Suddenly she snapped.  
“That bastard had me in my knickers.“ she hissed, “high as a kite from the dope I bought him, and he tells me he’s gonna tell old Ed and stop them, because he needs the bloody money. Says he’d keep me as his whore and Minnie won’t mind cause she’ll cheat on him with Li anyways, that way we could all be happy.“  
“That must have hurt,” Phryne’s voice was a little strained but only those who knew her would notice, “to realise that his 'love' for you was worth so little. And then you saw the sword.“  
“I’ve been dusting that stupid thing for months,“ Helen spat, “I knew it was sharp, but it went in like he’s made of butter. Didn’t even scream, just gasped like a fish and dropped like a log.“  
Her eyes were glowing almost triumphantly for a second.  
“And then you picked up the clothes he’d already shed along with your own and went to bed as if nothing had happened.“ Phryne continued, “Did you put them into Minnie’s room straight away? You must have known she wasn’t in that night.“  
Helen shook her head mutely. Her fury seemed to have drained from her and suddenly she looked just miserable.  
“I waited till the morning, before she got back.“ she said quietly.  
“I nearly kept them.“ she admitted, “I barely slept at all that night. I was so furious with him, I hated him in that moment, but...“  
“You loved him.“ Jack concluded. “And you killed him.“  
Another mute nod was all Helen was capable of.

“I was right.“ Phryne said, as she dropped into the visitors chair in Jack’s office.  
Normally that sentence would have sounded victorious or at least gleeful, but in this case it was almost defeated. Jack tilted his head questioning.  
“You generally are, Miss Fisher. About what specifically?“  
“Nothing good ever comes from parents meddling with their children’s relationships. Donny would still be alive, if Ed Paterson hadn’t cooked up this ridiculous plan to marry Minnie to him.“ she explained.  
Jack hummed in partial agreement.  
“He would have found another way to make Helen miserable though.“ he guessed, “If he as willing to throw her over so easily, I doubt he was ever as serious about her as she clearly was about him.“  
“Addiction does terrible things to people.“ Phryne noted.  
They both had seen the effects of drug abuse plenty of times, not only in their professional capacity, but especially in the aftermath of the war, when many of those who had lived turned to opiates either to numb the pain of battle wounds or drive away the demons that had nested in their minds. There were days when Jack could sympathise with the temptation to make it all go away and in the past on some of those days only the memory of the broken wrecks the drugs left in their wake had let him stick to whiskey instead.  
But Donny was a different case. The lad had never been to war, hardly more than a child as he was. He had merely wanted to have a good time with some friends while life was hard and he didn’t have much to laugh about. Jack was sure he had hoped for a mild distraction, maybe a bit of a laugh trying the cocaine. Instead he had gotten a desease that had made his life even worse and driven him to desperation and finally to a desicion that had cost him his life. While he would never condone a murder, Jack to his own surprise found that he had pity with Helen Bonnard. The true villain in this piece was someone else.  
“It’s a good thing we got Everett then.“ he said calmly.  
Phryne’s eyes shot up. For a moment she wondered if this was the moment the fight would happen they had put of last night, but Jack didn’t look like he was about to berate her.  
“It is.“ she said carefully.  
If he noticed her hesitation he didn’t let it on.  
“I liked him,“ she told him, “I hate that I didn’t see it sooner.“  
Jack nodded. “Me too.“ he agreed.  
Finding out someone was a career criminal was nasty, but to find out it was someone you trusted, was a different matter entirely. For some reason it kept happening to him. Maybe he just had terrible taste in people he trusted. He sighed.  
“But better late than never.“ he pointed out.  
“Just too late for Donny and Helen.” she replied darkly.  
“If I had been in Helen’s shoes I probably would have killed him, too.“ she admitted after a moment.  
Jack tilted his head lightly.  
“Do I need to worry?“ he teased, trying to get her spirits up again.  
“If you intend to walk out on me to marry another woman for her money, while keeping me as your mistress, you definitely should.“ she glowered at him, but couldn’t keep a grin tugging at her mouth.  
He pretended to contemplate the idea.  
“So you’re saying I should keep my distance from all rich, unattached women tonight?“ he finally asked innocently.  
He barely avoided her hand, reaching out to slap his arm in retaliation.  
“That'll be a third of the party, Jack.”  
“If you killed me, my body would never be found.“ he defended himself.  
“Right you are.“ she agreed. “They’d never knew it was me.“  
“I have no doubt.“ he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack quotes MSND 1.1.47


	19. Epilogue: With pomp, with triumph and with reveling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.1.19

“Phryne, my dear, have you heard? They arrested Tilly Everett.“ was the sentence with which Phryne was greeted by her aunt, as soon as she set foot inside her house.  
Prudence was waving the newspaper as if it were a banner. A look was enough to assure Phryne it was a differernt article than the one she had seen earlier that day on Wolfe’s desk, one that didn't feature a picture of her and Jack.  
“They took her from her house in the middle of the night. You must talk to Jack at once and tell him to stop that outrage.“ her aunt blustered.  
“I will do no such thing, Aunt P.“ Phryne declared calmly, “I would never ask Jack to risk his career for a silly favour. And as far as Tilly is concerned, I was the one who told the police to arrest her in the first place. And it was already half past five in the morning.“  
Aunt Prudence eyes widened in shock.  
“Phryne!“ she exclaimed.  
“She and Oliver were running a cocaine ring.“ her niece explained with as much patience as she could muster.  
“And if you would excuse me now Aunt P, as far as I’m aware I only have two more hours to get ready for the party you so wonderfully organised and I intend to take a long hot bath before. I did catch a murderer today after all.“  
With that she left her aunt to digest what she had heard and flounced up the stairs to her room.

She was just about ready to get out of the tub, when she heard Jack arrive. He looked exhausted, but generally contented. And he definitely perked up when he saw her rising from the water like Venus from the ocean. She couldn‘t help smiling at the look on his face.  
“Shall I leave the water?“ she asked.  
He tilted his head and let his eyes wander over her body.  
“Can I keep you in the tub as well?“  
She laughed, but shook her head.  
“Not today. I need to get dressed. It’s bad form to be late to your own party.“  
He sighed deeply in reply, but handed her a towel while he started shedding his clothes.  
He only took the barest minimum of time and was back out before she had even finished her make up.  
“The bath was supposed to help you relax,“ she chastised, “it doesn’t work if you’re in and out without soaking for a bit.“  
“And I would have loved that, but it seems you’ve been soaking in there for quite some time already. The water was getting cold.“ he replied, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.  
“Would have been a waste of a good bath anyway.“ he continued, walking over to the wardrobe to retrieve his dinner jacket.  
As agreed Mr Butler was taking the evening off of his duties as valet and hadn't laid anything out for him. But of course he had made sure everything was ready, pressed and only waiting for Jack to take it up.  
“As soon as we get down there I’ll be taunt as a bowstring, no matter what I do up here beforehand.“  
She watched him put on underwear in the mirror of her vanity.  
“It won’t be as bad as you fear.“ she promised, “It’ll be us and our friends and a lot of food and drink, and if it’s all getting to much we can always sneak out.“ she offered.  
He gave her a look under a raised eyebrow.  
“So it’s bad form to arrive late to your own party, but running from it is fine?“  
She shrugged dissmissively.  
“People remember your entrance.“ she stated, “How these parties end is usually more of a blur.“  
He couldn’t help grinning at that.  
“I guess as long as no one gets murdered or abducted I’ll be fine.“ he conceded.  
“Oh, no, we’ve already got the murder out of the way, remember.“ she grinned.  
Putting on the finishing touch of her eye shadow she got up and moved to the bed where Dot had laid out her dress. Jack had never seen it on her before, naturally the piece was a brand new creation of the Fleuri sisters, specifically brought to life for this night. For now all that he could tell about it, was that it was a dark purple, slightly on the blue side of things and there was a good deal of lace and green and silver embroidery involved, clearly designed with her emerald necklace in mind. But he had no doubt it would look breathtaking on her. He shrugged on his shirt, tearing his eyes form the fabric on the bed.  
He noticed that she kept watching him through the mirror. When she finally did get up to pick up her dress she seemed to have made a decision.  
“You know, we never did get to have that fight.“ she noted in a tone that might have been casual, if her voice hadn't pitched suspiciously high.  
Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had honestly no desire to return to that topic even for a moment, it was the kind of argument that could never lead anywhere simply because none of them was wrong, despite the fact that their positions were complete opposites. But he understood that she was concerned he might be harbouring a grudge.  
“Maybe next time.“ he gave her a teasing smirk, “In a more appropriate setting?“  
Thankfully she got the message loud and clear. Her face lit up in relief before it took on a look of mischievous glee.  
“You're assuming there will be a next time, Jack?“ she asked innocently.  
He gave her a dry look.  
“Lions make leopards tame but not change their spots.“  
She raised a teasing eyebrow.  
“Are you the lion in that scenario Jack?“  
He shrugged, not looking away from the challenging sparkle in her eyes.  
“I feel rather spotless at this point.“  
She laughed joyously.  
“Well, that's why we're here, isn't it? Your spotless reputation.“  
He couldn't help but mirror her mirth. He realised he was standing with her in a room they shared in her aunts house, both half dressed for their engagement party and quoting Shakespeare, just because they could. If anyone had told him that only a year ago he would have laughed. Or maybe cried. Right now, he found himself overwhelmed by his own happiness.  
“That away, men are but gilded loam or painted clay.“ he replied softly.  
Phryne couldn't help pressing a light kiss to his cheek, having to restrain herself very much not to fiddle with his newly tied bowtie.  
“Well roared, Lion.“ she whispered against his skin.

“You know Tilly and Oliver being arrested might have replaced our engagement as the talk of the town.“ she said after a moment of silence they both used to continue dressing.  
Jack noted that he had been right about the dress: He had never seen her look better while she was still wearing one.  
“I suggest we refuse to talk about anything but each other tonight.“ she suggested.  
“You think we’re allowed that, on our own party? I find I’m rather unfamiliar with the rules.“ he asked with a smirk.  
“If not there when?“ she returned, mirroring his amused expression.  
“Unless of course you just want to behave so scandalous tonight that we regain our rightful place on the top of the gossip columns.“ she grinned wickedly.  
“I’m still partial to being late.“ he proposed, prompting her to laugh happily once more.  
“I haven’t even had the chance to admire you all dressed up.“ she smouldered as she stepped in front of him and yielded to the urge to straighten his perfectly straight bowtie.  
“Well, in that case,“ he wrapped his arms around her and retaliated by starting to button up her dress behind her back, “it seems we’ll have to give up on the constant attention of gossips and photographers.“  
With a wicked smile she smoothed down the lapels of his dinner jacket.  
„Or maybe we can come up with a few other options.“ she teased.  
He tutted in reprimand, focused on buttoning her up rather than down, which cost him no small amount of effort. She looked up at him. Both of them readily dressed and hardly a breath apart.  
“Are you ready?“ she asked.  
He tightened his arms around her and gave her a tender kiss.  
“As ready as I’ll ever be.“ he said when he let her go and offered her his arm. “Let’s do this.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phryne and Jack do a lot of quoting, mostly Richard II Act 1 Scene one, all quotes relating to leopards and reputation happen between the lines 175-181. The last quote of course had to be A midsummer night's dream: „Well roared lion“ is MSND 5.1.259.  
> And that's it. Thank you for reading, I hope you had a bit of fun.  
> A big thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments, you guys make it real for me that someone is actually reading and that's everything. Thank you.


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